


Losing Himself

by SlipOfAScribe



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brainwashed, Crossing Timelines, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, pre-recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipOfAScribe/pseuds/SlipOfAScribe
Summary: Clint Barton never really recovered from the brainwashing Loki put him under. He didn't remember much of that time, but Loki is determined to remind him. So, Clint finds himself in a back-and-forth relationship with Loki and his own self-hate. Can he find himself in this mess, or is Clint destined to become the bad guy life seems to push him to be?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Loki
Kudos: 15





	1. Let's Do the Mind Warp Again

Clint Barton had a singular problem in his life, and what was worse was that he damned well knew it. Everyone in his life saw what he was struggling with, though at times they misinterpreted it: problem with authority, seclusion, hot-headedness, and too big an ego. But every move Clint made stemmed from one fear- abandonment.

He had been left behind, manipulated, and lied to by almost everyone that he had ever looked up to. He could think of one exception, and that man he often treated like shit. Why wouldn't he, though? He had to distance himself from the pain before it happened. 

Sitting in his apartment, box of pizza half devoured on the table in front of him, Clint stared at a t.v. playing static. He’d forgotten to pay the cable bill. Again. When Kate Bishop had been around, he hadn't had to worry about things like that because she was on top of it. At least he had never forgotten to feed Lucky. The dog lay at his feet now, snoring. Each breath out flapped his lips from his jowls and Clint found himself watching that instead, static still playing in the background. Not that Clint could hear much of it with his Stark Industries hearing aids on the table.

Abandonment. He feared it so much, and yet he abandoned people as much as he was left behind. Lucky has been his best relationship; not a single fight, no lies and backstabbing, and Clint didn't have the desire to flee before he got hurt. Of course, Lucky was getting old. He would be hitting the end of this relationship soon. 

“Get a grip, Barton. Next thing you know, you'll be dressing up your dog and presenting him at the next Avenger's get together as your girlfriend.”

Girlfriends. Wives. Clint had had plenty of those. The one he'd loved the most had ended even before the Skrull invasion he liked to blame. The thought of dating Katie had crossed his mind, and once it did, he let her go build her own version of Hawkeye, away from him. Now, he was forgetting to pay bills and thinking about a relationship with his dog.

Clint ended up dozing on the sofa, dreamless, and in a position that would result in him having a neck cramp if he stayed like that for too long. Of course, he didn't know that at the time.

XxxxxxxX

Upon waking, Clint found himself staring up into bright green eyes, shadowed in concern. He jolted, trying to climb over the back of the couch away from the tall, lean figure. 

He didn't get very far. Loki pushed an arm out, pinning Clint to the couch. The god’s strength was greater than Clint’s, but that was not a surprise to him. Clint worked with a lot of guys much stronger than him. What surprised Clint into stillness was the fact that Loki shouldn't even be here. He'd found his way back to Asgard, found something to root him there and keep his attentions from Midgard, partially by ruling of Thor. 

“What-”

“Shut up.” Loki was staring at Clint’s face, trying to glean some information Clint could only guess at.

Clint did shut up. He stared back, stomach churning at the repressed darkness of being held under Loki’s sway via Tesseract. Clint had switched sides on occasion, and had been under the influence of various mind controls throughout his time, but his experience with Loki had been the one he couldn't remember much of. There were snippets of shooting at friends, taking out important equipment, and visions of that damned scepter poking at his chest, but beyond that there was only a wary blackness he had always been afraid to tread into.

“You don't remember any of it, do you?” Loki didn't move, didn't give them any space.

“Not really.” Clint's voice felt heavy in his throat, watery like he was drowning.

Loki’s face twisted slowly into a grin. “You will.”

Something snapped. Clint thrust his arms up between Loki’s as they perched on Clint's chest, and bashed outwards so the brunt of the strike was made from the bone along his powerful forearms. Luckily, the god wasn’t expecting that and his arms broke away from their hold. 

“Speaking of luckily…” Clint was notorious for running his mouth while fighting. Or when in someone's company. Or when he was alone. He looked around for Lucky as he flipped over the back of the couch and found the dog passed out in the middle of the living room. “He better not be dead, asshole.”

Loki straightened at the same time Clint did, the couch now firmly between them. “The dog merely sleeps. Deeply, thanks to a quick spell.” Clint read his lips.

When Loki’s hands began to glow with a slight green hue, Clint dove towards the open kitchen behind himself, hoping he would be able to reach the stashed bow before Loki could use whatever magic now seemed to be at his literal fingertips. He rolled over his right shoulder and landed in a crouch next to the island, able to reach around and pull down the bow and one arrow stuck underneath. Clint had it nocked and aimed at Loki the same moment the god extended his glowing hand. The twang of a released string fizzed like a soft hum in Clint’s ear, just close and strong enough for him to hear. Then, the green magic blasted into the archer and everything sunk into absolute silence. There wasn't even a ringing in his ears from the physical impact as he was thrown completely to the ground by the blast, air knocked from his lungs. 

Clint gasped, the bow clattering unheard to the ground next to him. He clawed at his solar plexus, as if the motion would help re-inflate his lungs. It didn't. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, unable to hear, unable to breath, wondering if this was his third and final time to die. He had had plans still. He had hoped for a final relationship that might end in kids, grandkids, a family that loved him. Perhaps that just wasn't in this Avenger's destiny.

Loki materialized above him and those damned green eyes stared down sharply at Clint. His hand reached out towards Clint’s face and a warm breeze of the green magic washed over him. A complete darkness dumped on his brain and Clint passed out.

XxxxxxxX

When Clint woke next, he groaned and was immediately thankful to be able to hear himself. His hands went to his ears and he felt the earpieces that he’d removed before. He fiddled with them to set them more comfortably as he looked around. The room wasn't overly large, but it had everything a person could need in a bedroom- bed, side table, writing desk, and closet. There was also an extra door that Clint guessed led to a bathroom. The place was warm and the scent of some tangy spice hung heavily in the air. He looked around for the source, but Clint was alone, and there didn't seem to be any sort of candle burning. Loki’s natural scent, perhaps, amplified by the close living quarters and the warmth of the room. 

Clint sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, finding himself stripped down to his boxers. Of course, he was in the most obnoxious pair he owned- the purple ones with the big pink arrows dashed all around them.

Then, it happened to cross his mind that he wasn't restrained in any way. Of course, Hawkeye was always underestimated by the Avengers’ enemies. He should be used to that by now.

Still, Clint growled at the slight and then hunted around for the rest of his clothes. A black shirt with a purple downward arrow surrounded by a purple circle was folded on top of a pair of jeans, both sitting on the writing desk. Clint slipped into them, noting briefly that they weren't ones that he had owned before; they smelled too new and were slightly stiff. He rolled his shoulders, feeling a bruise from being slammed back on his own floor earlier today. Well, he hoped and assumed it had happened earlier today. 

The door opened. Clint slid back against the wall next to the desk and flattened himself, trying to quietly reach for the letter opener there. A shorter form stepped through, dressed in what looked like knock-off SWAT gear. He was staring at the empty bed, his back to Barton. 

Setting his face grimly, Clint approached quietly on bare feet. He had left the letter opener behind, in favor of a strangle-hold. He wrapped a quick arm around the man’s throat, the other across his shoulder so his hand could grip his own wrist for support, and then kicked the man’s left leg outwards so that he fell into Clint’s chokehold. Then, Clint sank into a squat and squeezed, his arm on both sides of the man’s neck so that he was cutting off both blood flow and breathing.

The man made barely a grunt before passing out. Clint lowered him to the floor, careful not to hurt his head. He grabbed the letter opener, tucked it in his back pocket, and peered around the door. There was a long hallway leading down further into what looked like a warehouse. Funny place for a bedroom…

Clint crept along, keeping close to the walls, and hoping that his hearing aids picked up telltale signs of any more guards. If this was actually where Loki was holed up, he really needed someone to talk to him about interior decorating and more security. Of course, the latter could take place after Clint made it out of here. 

Around the corner was a balcony, cast in shadow as the lights were off. It overlooked a massive facility below which was currently lit in only a dull, blue light. A bank of computers sat on one end, a personal desk lamp on at one of the stations. A young woman sat there, typing furiously at the keyboard. She was too absorbed in her work to notice someone was watching her.

Clint thought now might be the only chance he would get to find a way out without much of a hassle, so he looked around for a high exit. The balcony had a set of stairs leading down to the work area, and it was high enough up that the rafter beams criss-crossed right in front of him. It would be a small jump, but he was sure he could make it. His bare feet perched on the banister, toes curling over the edge to help keep his balance, Clint reached out and with a small jump was able to hoist himself up on the first beam. He breathed out a soft huff of breath and started on to the next. He was silent, an unseen shadow moving steadily towards the little window that would hopefully prove his escape. The drop down to the ground might be long, but he would survive it without major harm, he guessed. The window got closer as his heart beat faster, anticipation of release building. Suddenly, his foot completely missed the last beam. It was as if the beam had never been there to begin with. The archer found himself plummeting to the ground.

“Well, this doesn't look good.”

A rush of green rose up to meet him, slowing his descent immediately. Clint had his arms and legs spread out, slightly flailing, and was frozen like that as he now rested just a few feet above the floor. He knew. Loki.

The green bled away and Clint dropped. The fall didn't hurt from that short height, but it still pissed him off. He clambered to his feet and growled at Loki. “What the hell do you want with me?”

He pulled the letter opener from his pocket and stalked towards the god, some false bravado and temper edging him on to the immortal with barely a weapon in hand.

Instead of answering, Loki lifted a hand towards Clint’s chest to stop his advancing. They both paused, staring at one another. The longer the moment went on, the more deeply Clint frowned. He hated not getting an answer, especially after being kidnapped. He pressed into Loki’s hand until a new light began to glow. It had a familiar hue, a sort of icy blue, and Clint cried out but it was too late.

His eyes flooded with the bright blue, and it settled an eerie light about them. Then the voice started. It echoed in his brain louder than he was used to in life, which made him wonder if this was how people actually heard. It was too much and Clint reached up to cover his ears. Of course, that didn't help since the voice was not some physical vibration on this plane. He growled again, crumbling to his knees with the noise, sucking in pained breaths as he willed the noise to stop. 

Slowly the voice settled in its tone, dropping to bearable decibel, and started making sense.

“You are mine again. Kneel, bend, heed my every whim.” The voice was all at once Loki, but so much more. It had no trace of the Tesseract, and yet, the need to obey felt the same.

The movement didn’t feel like his own, but Clint dropped his hands from his head, pulled his other leg under him so that he was kneeling on two knees, and bowed his head. “Yes, my Liege, I am yours to command.”

The words strained along Clint’s vocal chords, grating against his will as he tried to keep from speaking them. He felt every second, each forced movement, and wanted to break free. Loki didn't let him, of course. 

“Stand. Come to me, Hawkeye.”

His muscles burned with the effort to stay put, but the command ran through him stronger than anything Clint could remember. Hell, puberty had taken hold of Clint as it did many teens, and he'd fallen under its sway quite completely (hard to find time when you lived in a traveling circus, but where there's a will). This, this was way beyond the urges of hormone fueled teenagers. 

He stood before Loki in a matter of seconds, internally cursing himself the weakness. “What would you have of me?” The words weren't his. This wasn't how he talked, but they were spoken all the same.

“To remember.”

Clint stood on his tip-toes, inches from Loki now, staring into the green abyss that was his eyes. His entire being was bent on remembering the last time, as Loki commanded, but still it was a blank. His brows furrowed, teeth ground noisily against each other, and his fists were so tightly clenched he could feel his short nails biting into his flesh. Normally, Clint was very careful about his hands, considering his life revolved around archery, but the command was ringing through his head like earlier. It echoed and banged as though it came from a speaker at a concert and Clint had front row standing. 

“Remember,” it cried. “You must. I command thee to remember what once was. Remember. Remember us. Remember what we did. Remember what we had.” As it kept speaking to him, as Loki kept commanding, the voice turned to pleading and the near sob of “please” had Clint sinking to the floor once more. 

He didn't make it there, and as his body shook and shivered with the effort of seeking what was lost to him, Loki held him upright. The god’s arms wrapped around Clint’s body, his chin tucked to Clint's shoulder, and he whispered in his ear, mimicking the voice that cried orders in his mind. Clint could feel the breath on his skin, a warmth and slight damp that settled behind his ear heavily.

“Stop…” The mortal’s voice was but a whisper. “Please, I can't…”

“It is there, hidden. You will remember, because I have commanded it.”

A fire ripped through Clint’s body and everything tightened. The voice faded to white noise, and then he tensed up completely as though shocked with an electric current. He remembered.

  
  
  
  



	2. Remember Who We Were

Clinton clung to the Trickster God as the memories flooded back to him. They came in snippets, scenes disconnected from a proper timeline. Each one brought him closer back to fully remembering what he went through.

_ Clint was lying on his back, the bed cool beneath his naked form. In his mind, he battled between not wanting this to go further and giving in to the burning desire that had him erect. Loki loomed at the end of the bed, staring down at Clint as he squirmed in his desire-hate. Then, long fingers were on his torso, icicles dancing across heated skin and steaming as they melted with the touch. He gasped at the feeling and reached a hand up himself, losing his fingers into the black, silken locks the framed Loki’s face. He tugged Loki closer, needing to feel his lips, wishing he would leave.  _

_ Loki tasted like a sweet wine and dark chocolates. Somehow, it fit, and Clint dragged his tongue through his mouth, licking up that wonderful taste. Those wicked long fingers wrapped around Clint’s arms, pinning them up against the headboard. The rough bite of wood contrasted to the soft stroke of one of Loki’s thumbs against Clint’s wrist and he writhed in the contradiction.  _

_ “What do you want, marksman?” _

_ “Nghn,” Clint couldn’t form an intelligible sentence when Loki did that stupid thing with his teeth on Clint’s earlobe. “More,” he managed to choke out. _

_ Suddenly, the weight was gone and a relieved exasperation flooded Clint. “Wha-” _

_ “Tell me  _ exactly _ what you want me to do to you, pet.” _

_ He was drowning in that blue-coated voice. It rang through his head like a bomb. “I want to feel you inside of me, My Liege. I want you to fuck… to f-” His head spun. “Fuck off!” _

Clint gasped out a breath, trying to shove Loki away from himself. He managed a weak push, and then his body tensed again. Loki held him steadfastly. “Shh, give in to the memories, Clint. Rememb-.”

_ “-ber not to disappoint me,” Loki’s voice echoed through the warehouse where the Tesseract and his scientists were gathered. He was addressing a group of men, preparing them to launch the major attack against the Avengers.  _

_ Clint stood next to Loki, arms folded behind his back in the militaristic resting position. He barely eyed the men that His Liege had decided were worthy of taking on the best damned group of fighters this world had ever seen. Clint didn’t actually think they’d be much use, but he was prepared to do all the heavy lifting that Loki might need him to do.  _

_ “Yes, King Loki!” The misty-blue eyed soldiers all called out their salute in unison. _

_ At the back of his mind was a mingling thought that he was going back to the place he was meant to be, but it was easily drowned out when Clint looked at Loki. The need to protect and serve the Trickster rode hot in his veins. They would have one more night together before the attack, and Clint already had plans, which he hoped Loki would let him put into effect. Clint could be a pushy subordinate, and Loki could be a very malleable dominant. _

_ When Loki turned to look at him, Clint’s face flattened to an unreadable mask. He tilted his chin to look slightly taller, and squared his shoulders. He was Loki’s right hand in this, at least as far as soldiers went, and he wouldn’t let Loki catch him thinking things he shouldn’t be. But Loki’s eyes turned hungry and it hit Clint right in the groin. He nearly groaned with the need to feel the god over, beneath, within him. _

_ Loki spun, his coat twirling behind him, horned head held high as he walked away from his men, trusting them to finalize themselves and get some sleep before the coming attack. Clint knew where his own place was and turned on his heel, following after Loki. While the god moved in complete silence, even Clint’s bad ears could pick up the sound of his own movements, the leather of his jacket creaking and the thump-thump of his boots landing on cement floors.  _

_ Then, Loki was wrapped about him in the back corridor, shoving him up against a wall. Clint had to go up on his tiptoes when Loki’s hand wrapped in his coat, hoisting him upwards. He put his own hands on Loki’s biceps and gripped, groaning out loud now. Their lips fell together and the god’s taste overwhelmed Clint’s senses. When Clint thought he might suffocate, Loki tore apart from him, backing against the far wall. Watching the god’s hands move downwards, flicking open the clasp that held his pants up, Clint’s mouth started to salivate. Desire burst like a flower blooming in his brain. He paused, watching, waiting for some thought to make him stop, to make him want to turn away but only a driving need remained at this point.  _

_ “Kneel,” Loki gnarred.  _

_ Clint crossed the short distanced and dropped to his knees in an instant. The landing was hard, the cement crushing at his kneecaps, but the pain was little to him. His hands skied up Loki’s leather-clad legs, pushing the front open more completely. The heady scent of arousal rushed to meet Clint as he drew a tongue along the bulging leather front. His nose buried into warm skin at the top of Loki’s pants, and he inhaled deeply.  _

Clint shivered and groaned. Loki smiled.

_ His hands pulled carefully, stripping leather from bare skin, and Loki’s erection was finally free. One of Clint’s hands wrapped around the shaft. The other hand reached up, gripping at the criss-crossed belts of his leather top. Clint’s lips brushed along Loki’s cock, then opened across the head and he pushed forward until he felt the head at the back of his throat. He pulled back, dragging his tongue along the underside, and dove back down again, urging it deeper in his throat. The mewling sounds coming from Loki urged him further. Clint was ready to come in his own pants, and he hadn’t even been touched yet. The pleasure he brought this tortured creature fulfilled some deep need in Clint.  _

_ Funny, Clint had never been interested in guys before this, but as he sucked at Loki, drawing more noises from the god, he couldn't think of a better place to be. If only his exes could see him now. Something sharp twinged at his temples and Clint gasped, falling back from the cock in his mouth to catch his breath. Thoughts of his past were replaced with the face of Loki, caught in ecstasy above him. Warmth replaced the pain at his temples, and Clint pressed back, swallowing Loki’s cock to the base. His nose was pressed to Loki’s warm skin again and the tangy spice mixed with dark chocolate wormed its way in with the warmth. Clint groaned around the cock in his mouth, pulling back as he sucked his cheeks in.  _

_ Then, Loki’s hands went to Clint’s head and he was fucking into Clint’s mouth. Putting his hands on Loki’s hips, he opened his mouth wide, hollowed his cheeks, and tried to pace his breathing with the thrusts. When Loki tossed his head back and lost himself to an orgasm, Clint struggled to breathe and his fingers tightened on Loki’s hips. _

_ “Swallow, pet.” The command was more in his head than in the physical world and as Clint gagged and forced a swallow, that calming warmth flooded at his temples again beneath Loki's fingertips as he massaged circles on Clint's skin.  _

Loki was backing Clint up, and the archer followed his steps, not that he had much control of himself at the moment. His head was spinning as he looked around and it reminded him of the times as a kid when the carnival set up. He and Barney would ride the twirly-rides all night, the world zipping by in streams of colors and distended shapes. That’s how Loki’s newest lab looked now, and the small comfort of being pushed against a table was taken. He fumbled his hands back on the table top and sat on it when Loki pushed him down.

“Remember, pet. There was more to us than that.”

_ The room was dark; only a sliver of light pooled in across the floor from the slip of curtain that wasn’t fully drawn across the window. It was enough that Clint could see by, though. He’d been with Loki for three nights, the blue light that had settled in his eyes and brain now sunk further inside of him and provided a soft hum in his brain with each thought.  _

_ Loki was, amazingly, asleep. It was nearly impossible to get a god to sleep when they deemed the task unnecessary in the overall plot of their world conquering scheme. Clint watched his face, slack in a deep sleep, and the man seemed too young for world domination. All that power was pent up in a frustration that Clint could connect with. They were both driven by a similar need, and they could feel it in each other.  _

_ Here though, now, they both didn’t have to put on some face for the rest of the world. They could lie in bed away from everything else and feel what they needed to feel. Loki didn’t have to put on a front, because no matter what he showed, Clint wasn’t able to judge or act on his reactions to the information given. With Loki asleep, Clint was free to search his own emotions, though he still couldn’t act on any of them if they went against Loki’s wishes, at least, not without a terrible pain stemming from his temples and ripping through the rest of his brain. _

_ Abandonment. Clint had always been left behind. No one wanted to stay with him- not his parents, his brother, The Swordsman, hell his wife left him more than once. Loki though, his new Liege Lord and Commander… Loki wanted Clint enough that he put him under the power of the Tesseract and bedded him. Somewhere behind the pleasant hum, a prickle of pain accompanied the thought that he was merely being used to play out the plot and would be cast aside as soon as his use was up. What was a dime a dozen mortal to an immortal god like Loki? The pain increased and Clint hissed, shutting his eyes to the feeling.  _

_ Loki stirred, eye flickering open at the same time Clint’s did. “Can’t sleep, pet?” _

_ "No, sir. Not tired.” _

_ The god’s face turned down in a pout. “Give me your hand.” _

_ Clint reached over and let Loki wrap his long fingers around his wrist. Clint let him pull it down under the sheets and the archer cupped the god’s cock. Loki, hand still around Clint’s wrist, dragged that arm up and down in a slow, even movement. Clint squeezed and rubbed as he let his hand be manipulated and was rewarded with a hardening cock.  _

_ Mmm, yes, perfect-no, stop, I don’t like this. The thoughts played tug-a-war in his head but his hand never faltered on Loki’s cock.  _

_ His thumb rubbed over the head of it and the sticky precum was dragged back down. When Loki let go, Clint turned so that he could maneuver better. By this third night in Loki’s bed, and with the god’s insatiable appetite, he knew how to handle the man’s erection to get it pulsing on its own and extended to its full length. It was long, like the rest of Loki, and had a surprising girth. Of course it was perfect; it belonged to a god, after all.  _

_ Loki rumbled, “Roll over.” _

_ The blue flared in Clint’s eyes at the direct command. He let go and turned over, lying on his stomach with his head on the pillow, sideways so he could watch Loki.  _

_ “Face down. Expose the back of your neck.” Clint obeyed again, positioning himself so that his face was in the pillow, chin tucked towards his chest enough that he could breath. “Hands planted at your shoulders; I want to see your back strain beneath me, archer.”  _

_ Clint planted his hands, his shoulder blades pressing together. The archer’s muscles built across his back and shoulders, were exposed to Loki’s eyes and ministrations now. He shivered when the sheets were ripped away, exposing his bare skin to the cool air in the room. Then the fingers, colder than ice, dripped their way along his neck, then down his spine. Loki dragged them all the way down and cupped Clint’s ass, squeezing and then spreading him open. The feel of a mouth at his lower back made Clint tighten in hate-expectation.  _

_ Loki ran a tongue downwards, lubricating Clint’s hole naturally. Clint moaned, pressing back into the tongue, then murmured, “Stop. No…” The pain flared at his temples. “Please, more, my Liege.” Warmth replaced the pain. _

_ “You will have me, pet. When you beg.” _

_ A whimper escaped Clint’s mouth as the tongue teased at his opening again. Breathy wetness slicked him and a slight pressure pushed at the puckered area, slowly, slowly dipping inwards. _

_ He clenched his jaw, remaining quiet. _

_ Loki swirled his tongue, drew back, spit, and delved down again. Clint tightened his teeth, feeling them grind together.  _

_ Clint felt Loki pull away and the sudden absence left a vulnerable cool across his skin. The sting of a slap across his ass made Clint gasp and tighten. “Ask me, pet. Tell me what you want of me.” _

_ “I want. Nothing. No this...not you.” Clint gasped again, rubbing his head into the pillow, shaking his head back and forth. “Inside. I want you inside of me, My Liege. Please! God, please, inside of me now.” _

_ “With pleasure.”  _

_ Loki wrapped a hand around the back of Clint’s neck and the other hand spread him open once more. A heavier pressure than a tongue pressed to Clint’s opening and pushed forward in a slow, steady thrust. He felt himself open and give way to the invasion. It burned, then sent marvelous shivers throughout his entire body. _

_ “Ahh!” Clint breathed. “Yes, fuck, yes…. “ No, this isn’t right. _

“No!” Clint shoved Loki back away from himself. “No, this isn’t right. This isn’t… I wouldn’t…”

The table shook as Clint slipped further back on it. Pushing a god didn’t really budge the other, but it put distance anyway. It pushed Clint away. “We were nothing.”

Loki took a step back, mouth dropping open a pinch and eyes crumpling sadly. “You were everything.”

_ “...everything.” _

_ Clint and Loki stood across the room from the scientists and soldiers. They’d been there five days and it wouldn’t be long now until they moved to their last steps. The tug-of-war was silent in Clint’s head this afternoon, and a pleasant warmth pervaded his mind. He recognized the look Loki was giving him; it was one he often saw in the mirror. _

_ “I’m yours to command as long as you see fit, My Liege.” What abandonment would he find under one such as Loki?  _

_ “What purpose do you serve after I have thwarted the Avengers and taken over Midgard?” Loki was watching him with that look still etched on his features. _

_ It was almost hard to look at such a familiar emotion. “What purpose would you like me to serve?” _

_ Loki shook his head, and Clint knew what was wanted. An answer. _

_ Death. Useless. I’ll be nothing to him. _

_ Life. Protector. I’ll be everything to him. _

_ “I will be whatever you need at each turn of day.” _

_ This time, Loki smiled. Then, he looked back over the blue-eyed crowd that soldiered and scienced his plot. “I suppose you will, pet.” _

Clint’s mind settled, a calm pouring through and turning the world upright again. The colors stilled, the images sat in place, and he looked up at Loki from his seated position on the table. His back was pressed to a computer, hands flattened on papers scattered there. A pen bit into one of his hands and his eyes darted across the floor. Behind Loki sat the fallen letter opener, the only weapon he had had. A pen could do damage, he supposed, but to a god?

“Whatever you’re thinking, Clint, don’t.” Loki pulled back, giving Clint space to breath at last.

He weighed his options, noted his mind was his own, and frowned. The room was filled with light now and there were men about the open space. They had formed an enclosure with their bodies and the guns strapped to their chests. Hawkeye was, once more, trapped. He really should be used to that by now.

“This sucks.” He sighed, his body sagged, and he looked back to Loki. “Now what, foxy-loxy?”

If a god could look more displeased, Clint wasn’t sure he’d ever see it.


	3. No Means No

Clinton was pacing the too-short length of the bedroom, and was on pass number sixty-six or sixty-seven, he wasn't quite sure. Loki had brought him back up there when it was realized that the archer wasn't going to get away this time. Now, guards stood outside and extras patrolled the hallways. Clint was taking the time to draw up a new escape plan. He was great at getting himself into the lion's den, but usually struggled with the getting out bit. Definitely a weakness of his.

On pass eighty-four or eighty-seven, the door swung open. Clint had to backpedal, and completely lost his count, so as not to get hit with said door. He glowered at the figure walking in, immediately recognizing the stern face and long black hair.

“You never answered my question.”

Loki looked over his shoulder and waved a dismissive hand. Clint supposed the guards took off, but his hearing aids needed recalibrating after the tussle downstairs so he didn't hear them move. Then Loki shut the door and turned his attention to Clint. “That remains entirely up to you.”

“That so? Well, I guess you'll need to be showing me to the front door then, ‘cuz I got a dog to feed.”

Loki actually laughed. “The cur can be brought here, if you so desire.” He clapped his hands behind his back and took to circling Clint. “What happens with us next is dependent upon your actions, or reactions, as it were.”

Clint’s feet stayed still, turning his head to follow Loki's movements. He also stayed quiet for now. He couldn't begin to guess what Loki had in mind, but it had him worried, nevertheless.

"My time with you, Clint, brought me to a realization. There was something there I haven't been able to find again, no matter how I try to see it with others. “

There was a twisting in Clint's gut; he wasn't going to like this at all.

“While I tried to be content once more in Asgard, I found myself… missing something from what we had. I think, perhaps, it's something you're missing as well. I know of your divorce, of your failed relationships since then. I can see the ever present ‘bachelor’ etched into the very fabric of your life and it's all built upon that deep mistrust of others.”

Clint shifted his feet, exchanging his weight as the speech hit too close to home. Still, he kept quiet. He didn’t want to encourage the god, and he didn't want to think too closely on what was spoken. 

Loki stopped circling and stepped near. The room started to feel too small. “We need each other, Clint. We have something the others in our lives don't, and it is only found through each other.”

Narrowing his eyes, Clint tried to take a step away from the god. There wasn't an ounce of pain in his head and he was starting to have hope that the mind control was completely gone. “Look man, I get what you're looking for, but I am not the one who can give it to you.”

Loki just smiled, stepping so that he could run a hand over the side of Clint's face. The archer held still as he felt the cool touch glide over his skin, but he had narrowed his eyes and mouth into a frown.

“You’ll give in again.” Loki sounded so sure.

The god was stronger. Clint knew this, and he wasn't sure if his own knowledge of hand to hand would stand up against it. He didn't have the team to back him up this time, and that would likely prove his undoing. Hawkeye, though he didn't like to publicly state it, understood that as a pretty humdrum mortal, he had his limitations. 

When Loki's hand moved to his throat, pegging him to the bedroom wall, Clint’s own hands went immediately to the god’s wrists. It did little, so he pulled back his arm as well as he could with the wall in the way and threw a punch. It landed and Loki's face barely moved.

Then, suddenly, Clint found himself flung onto the bed. The force and shock of the changed location had the archer sucking in a surprised breath. As he pushed up to retaliate, Loki was atop him. A hand was at his throat again and Clint could not breath well. Still, he swept an arm between them, knocking out the arm Loki landed on for support to hold him over Clint. They both went completely down on the bed, Loki now pinning him. 

_ Smooth move, dumbass. _

They grappled each other for the upper hand, but Clint had been right. Loki’s strength had won out in the end. Now he was kneeling at the headboard, face pressed to the wall and hips biting into the wood. Loki was perched behind, an erection pressed against Clint’s ass. He grunted, bucked his hips back trying to displace Loki, and received a thrust of hips and a hungry growl in response.

In a snap of Loki's fingers, the two men were suddenly naked.

“What, no foreplay?”  _ Dammit Barton, don't antagonize him!  _ Of course, Hawkeye had a problem shutting up sometimes. “Strip tease off the table then?”

Loki shoved a hand around Clint’s hips, grabbing hold of his sensitive and slowly growing member. “Looks to me as though you're warming up just fine, pet.”

Clint meant for the groan to be an angered one, but his body had learned to react a certain way to being handled by Loki, and he couldn't control all of it. “Let go,” he growled after he got control of his voice again.

“Tell me what you really want from me,” Loki said and then drew his tongue across the outline of Clint’s ear. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I want you to s-”

A hand had reached up and tangled into Clint’s blond hair, yanking it back and exposing the side of his neck to Loki’s bite. It cut off his protestation. 

He tried again, not willing to give up the fight now, “Let me go.”

Loki chuckled darkly and nipped up Clint’s neck. When Clint jerked a shoulder back, attempting to elbow Loki, the god caught his arm and yanked it upwards behind his back, pinning it there for leverage and control. The pain shoved Clint forward, his face pressed hard against the wall and his hips bucked back against Loki. It seemed to encourage Loki, as though his new position was somehow consent. There was a hand at his hips, some fumbling, and then Clint felt a burning pain as Loki sheathed himself inside, without lubrication. 

Clint cried out in pain as he was suddenly stretched, and the hum in Loki’s throat sounded like enjoyment. The first few punctuated thrusts slammed Clint’s hips into the wood of the headboard and he could feel the bruises already forming along his hipbones. As Loki fell into a rhythm, Clint grit his teeth and tried to block out what he could. The pain numbed eventually, and he stopped struggling. Any time he did, Loki took it as encouraging movements considering Clint's limited mobility in this position. 

Loki came, barking out his orgasm. Clint did not. He'd gone soft from the unenjoyable pain and sighed when Loki finally pulled away. The god flipped over on the bed, stretching out cat-like with a cheshire grin. 

“You are still the most pleasing conquest, pet.”

Though he wanted to scream at Loki, to punch him over and over in the face, Clint decided a new tactic was needed. He slowly climbed off the bed and cradled the arm that had been strung up behind his back, he found Loki sitting up on his elbows to watch Clint closer. 

“Let me go, Loki.”

“I want you by my side, Clint. You're a powerful ally, once we relieve you of your delicate hero sensibilities. We could rule the world and fulfill in each other what we each lack.”

Clint moved closer to the bed, tucking his head down and looking as beaten down as he felt. “I don't want that, Loki. I never did. Let me go.”

Loki looked confused, concerned even. “You always turned to my side, eventually. Clearly you responded to my touch, my words…”

“The Tesseract hurt to disobey… and this time, you're blind if you saw that as a positive reaction. I never wanted you, and I never will. You don't need me; you need what you always leave behind, the people you keep walking away from.” Thor. Asgard. His home. Just like Clint keeps leaving the people who care for him.

As something new burned in Loki's eyes, the archer started to worry that rejecting the god who had conquered warriors, made nations submit, and killed those who got in his way all to run from rejection and some perceived inadequacy was the wrong tactic. Now, Clint Barton worried this would end in his death instead of getting him home. 

Loki raised his arm and a blue-green light slammed outward at Clint’s chest. The pain was amazing. It felt as though his bones had been crushed to meal and his flesh had burned away. He screamed, fearing this was the end. 

XxxxxxxX

Clint came to in his apartment, still naked and not cleaned up. He groaned, the pain in his shoulder sharp now. Rolling into a seated position, he put his hands to his face and scrubbed at it to attempt to wake himself up. Then he froze. His hearing. Everything was muffled, like he was under water. His fingers went to his ears, searching for the aids and found nothing. 

There was a pounding, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn't a headache. He looked over the side of the couch to his door just in time to see Steve Rogers shouldering it off its hinges. There were other faces behind him, but Clint didn't wait to see who else was there. He was too busy diving to the floor, trying to snag up a pair of pants that had been left there. 

He managed to pull some piece of clothing over his hips, strain his sore arm more, and set a new tingling pain at his tailbone.

“Ow,” he mumbled and barely heard it. Looking up, his apartment was far more full than he was comfortable with and an angry looking Lucky was whining, unheard, next to his face. “Shit…”

“............” Steve was talking too fast, gesturing around too much for Clint to catch what he was saying. 

Clint raised a hand, waving it, and he drew everyone's attention. Steve, Natasha, Tony, Jessica, and Wanda all stood about, fully suited up. Steve was the one who stepped closer and crouched down. He reached a hand outward, taking Clint’s face in his hand, tilting it from side to side to study him.

“What. Happened?” Steve formed the words in a slow and deliberate manner. “You have been gone five days.”

“Five?” Clint spoke out loud but barely heard a murmur. By the way Steve cringed a bit, he knew he yelled it. He flushed and looked down, his chest tightening with the hate of this.

Everything was too still, and Clint looked back up. Natasha was in the kitchen with Lucky, getting the dog food and water. Tony was rooting through a hidden container in his suit. Steve was standing in front of Tony, waiting for something. Wanda stood close by Natasha but was watching Clint with worried eyes. Then there was Jessica. She was standing back, arms folded and eyes unreadable behind her mask. Clint had a feeling it wasn't a good look though. At least the other two women had seemed to have forgiven him his part in their relationships. Jessica was still a bit bitter, and the newest one to boot.

Steve was back to Clint moments later with new hearing aids. Getting them set, Clint hovered, debating putting them in. He wasn't ready to talk about this, and if he couldn't hear, he wouldn't have to. Steve stayed in his face though, and Tony was drawing closer. 

Giving up, Clint put them in and cringed as the sounds of life came back to him. 

“I… it was, nothing. Accident. I’m fine now.”

“Tssh, accident. Clint, when someone kills you, will that just be an accident, too?” Yep, Jesse was sore.

Clint gripped the clothing in front of his naked hips and stood up slowly, painfully. Too much of him hurt. “Probably!”

“Geeze, Hawk. Those bruises did not get there from a little fall.” Steve was looking at his hips.

Tony looked down, folding his arms as well as the suit allowed. “Or consensually, I'm guessing.” 

It was too much. Clint could not take this in front of these friends. The worst of the worst had gathered- the ones he respected, had been with since the start, and ones he had had relationships with. Fuck, he could not talk about this with Steve!!

“Leave it alone Winghead, Tinman. I'm fine.” He glanced at the kitchen, “Thanks for feeding Lucky.” Then he turned and walked away, heading for his bathroom. The feeling between his legs was pissing him off. He wanted to scrub his skin off; this time he couldn't use mind control as an excuse, just his own inadequacy.

The feeling of eyes following him burned into his bare skin. He would have to scrub that away, too. Somehow, they got the message. No one followed him. He stayed under the scalding hot water until it turned to ice, then stayed a little longer. 

When he finally pulled himself out, Clint put on a pair of sweats, keeping them below the bruises. The others had left, though Steve had pinned a note on the t.v. asking Clint to call him later. He left the note where it was and didn't call. He dropped on the couch, ordered a pizza, and looked over at where Lucky sat in the kitchen by his now empty food dish. 

“I'm sorry, Luck. I didn't know I was gone that long. Come here, you can have pizza once it's here.” The dog didn't move and Clint didn't blame him. He would have some making up to do. Apparently, he could mess this relationship up, too.  _ Shit _ . 

Lucky curled up in the kitchen and ignored him. “Aw, dog, no….”


	4. He Shoots, He Misses

Clinton sat in his apartment wondering if this was fated to be the direction of the rest of his life; sitting around the apartment with beers, attempting to get the cable box working, and eating days-old pizza from his coffee table with a dog who was mad at him. He flipped back heavily on the couch, and it skidded back a bit. He kicked his feet up the coffee table, knocked over his coffee pot which was hiding behind a quiver of arrows. It crashed on the floor, spilling coffee and shattering glass. 

“Aw, coffee, no…” He didn't move though. 

The phone on the wall rang out sharply. “Dammit.” Even then, he didn't move. His body was still sore from the...encounter with Loki, and he felt like sulking in his misery for a little while. 

Then, his cellphone rang. 

“Nope. Nope, you'll have to come to my door to get me to move.”

He cursed those words when twenty minutes later a heavy knock sounded on the door. It was followed by a familiar voice, “Clint? Open the stupid door or I will let Cap break it down again!”

Kate Bishop, Hawkeye 2.0, little Hawkeye, the other Hawkeye…. The better Hawkeye at this point. It was the only person who could have gotten him up off the couch. He had mentored the fiery pistol, and it had been the one woman he’d managed not to completely screw things up with, mostly because they'd kept romance out of their relationship. Fuck it. 

“Yeah, one second!”

Lucky was already at the door, wagging his tail at the sound of Kate's voice. The dog liked her a lot, and she liked Lucky. Maybe she could take care of him for a while until Clint got his head back on straight.

Yanking it open, he let Kate and Steve inside, trying to ignore Kate’s eyes as she looked over his naked torso, still smattered in bruising. She also noticed the way his arm tucked close to his body as he tried to get it healing up. 

“You look like shit, Barton. And you're starting to smell.”

“I showered… when did you guys bust into my apartment?”

Steve let out a hard, scoffing laugh, “Four days ago now.”

“Oh. Then, I showered then.”

He shut the door and watched the two most important people in his life invade his emotional wreckage. Steve grabbed a polite seat on the smaller couch that seemed the least covered in Hawkeye's life, but Kate shoved food wrappers and blankets off the big couch and sat down.

“You're pissing me off, Clint. This isn't you. This is that shitty guy I thought we got you to leave behind before.” Kate stared at him, then pointed at the couch.”Sit, big guy. We need to talk.”

Clint scoffed, but then sat down. He pulled his legs under himself and crushed himself in the corner so he could see both Kate and Steve. In this position they also couldn't see much of his body, which he was angrily self-conscious about now. 

“I want you back in on a job with me.” Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looked so hopeful. 

“You're the best guy I know, Steve. Seriously. I give you a lot of shit for being Mr. Boyscout, I mean we all do, but you're seriously a great dude. I wouldn't be half as a good a guy as I am now without your nagging and pushing and… and your belief that I could actually be something. But, not now, Rogers. I can't do this.”

“Clint, you-”

“Bullshit.”

Clint and Kate turned their attention to Steve after that curse. They fell silent, Kate's mouth hanging open. 

Steven continued, “Sorry, but I call bullshit. I have seen you laid up in a hospital bed, beaten with bats and steel toed boots. I've seen you deafened multiple times, and once by your own damned arrows, and even that didn't stop you. You've been mind controlled, manipulated, and lied to but you always come out on top. That's what I saw in you, that's what I found that makes you better than other men, and I will be damned if I let you give up now. “

Narrowing his eyes, Clint tried not to let the feeling of pride at Captain America's words influence him. He hung onto the anger at allowing himself to be used by Loki. “Taking a bullet is easy, Steve. This, I don't know how to deal with this emotional stuff. What he...what he said, a lot of it was true.”

“Is what I am saying any less true?”

“No, but-”

“Then pick your truth, Clint. You've got people by your side who want to see you succeed. You're going to start losing them if you don’t figure yourself out. You're pushing them away.”

The words were so close to what Clint had been saying to Loki that it made him pause and physically rearrange himself. He uncurled, stretching himself out across the couch, his feet invading Kate's space and his body opening up as he watched Steve's face. Kate grabbed his leg carefully and pulled it on her lap, patting it. 

“So, what are we getting into now? Damsel in distress? Storming a castle?”

“Ha! Not quite. Some questionable shipping manifestos SHIELD has had their eyes on. They passed it on to us.” Steve was looking around the cluttered coffee table and floor, eyes landing briefly on the broken coffee pot. “I sent the details to your cell phone.”

Clint grunted. “It's there somewhere. I’ll find it.”

“Okay, seriously, you need a shower, Hawkeye.” Kate pushed his leg away and pointed to the bathroom. “I’ll find your phone if you go take care of that.”

With unintelligible grumbles, Clint made his way to the bathroom. Even though Tony told him the hearing aids were waterproof, Clint didn't trust something like that so close to his head. That's all he would need, a zap in the ear canal. He set them on the sink and fell into a muffled silence. This shower was much better than the last, and Kate had been right. He definitely needed it. 

When he finished up, he came back out to Steve and Kate cleaning his apartment and Lucky eating in the kitchen. “Stop, stop it! I will clean it after the mission. Come on, you guys built me back up, don't make me feel incapable now.”

“You clearly are incapable of keeping your place clean when I'm not around.” Kate dumped a half eaten slice of pizza in a garbage-bag.

“Aw Katie, don't be like that. I can handle a little cleaning.”

“Yeah right.”

Steve was chuckling in the background, tossing a washcloth in the sink after having wiped down the coffee table.

Clint folded his arms over his chest. “Alright, let's go before I end up crazy.”

The Avengers Tower was an amazing place, filled with rooms of scientists and engineers creating all sorts of fun things for them to use and to help make the world a little better. Tony was a good guy, too, when he wasn't busy being a dick. Kate didn't really get to come here, so she followed behind, wide eyed and finally able to look around. 

The trio ended up in a conference room higher up in the building. Natasha was in there when they walked in,and she was already suited up in her newest Black Widow outfit. 

“Hey Clint. You look like you're feeling better.” She smiled and got to her feet, coming over for a hug.

He couldn't deny that woman anything. She may not have been his first love, or his most serious relationship, but something had stemmed from their time together. After he had gotten over the lies, he and Natasha had formed a new bond and it had only strengthened over the years. He wrapped his arms around her, wincing only slightly at the pain that ran through his sore arm. 

“Yeah, thanks.” They pulled apart and all took a seat around the table. Clint was sat in the middle of the little group, and while they tried to be subtle about it, Clint could feel all of their eyes on him. He felt as though they were waiting for him to break.

Steve fumbled with a remote, trying to get a screen across the room drawn up. He managed to pull up the wrong file three times, blast a Stark Industries ad at full volume, and then initiated an old copy of JARVIS apparently still stored in the shared memory banks of Avengers Tower. Kate snatched the remote away and took over. She pulled up the files, navigating as Steve cleared his throat, was polite enough to blush, and started in on the mission.

“Yeah, I didn't read the file. I'll need some background.” Clint gave a guilty cough.

“What were you doing in the elevator when I handed you the file?” Steve looked exasperated. 

“Debating internally, and thinking up the next quips to use against you, Methuselah.”

Steve glowered at the name, putting the file down in front of Clint again. “Can't say I missed that nickname. Here, read when we are on the jet. For now, just listen to the plan of attack.”

As Clint listened to Steve and Natasha lay out battle plans, Katie still working the remote and slides, he couldn't help but flash back to his newest stint with Loki. He could see the battle plans drawn up on the board before him, and yet, often snippets of the maps and plans from Loki’s little lab room clouded his brain instead. He turned to jotting down notes hoping that this would help him to concentrate, and for a time it did, until he was sketching a very familiar set of eyes. 

His torment ended when Kate clicked the slides off and everyone stood up. It would be a typical mission anyway; Clint hidden up high, the others on the ground making the first contact. If all went well, they wouldn't even need to lift a weapon. Of course, when did anything ever go smoothly for the Avengers?

XxxxxxxX

  
Perched atop a building that overlooked the shipping yard, Hawkeye watched Black Widow and Captain America sneak their way around the large, metal containers. They were headed for two different targets but in close enough proximity to one another that Hawkeye could keep an eye on them both. Tasha was headed for the shipping office for documents they hoped would be there still, and Cap was making his way towards the container in question. It was supposedly shipping farming equipment, but was being pushed through questionable hands. The file mentioned Osborne Corporations, and they couldn’t ignore that fact.

Hawkeye had his bow loosely in his hand, fingers dancing on the string, and the other spinning an arrow. He was ready to nock it when necessary. So far, mission silence.

“Cap, two containers to your left. You’re almost there,” he directed through the ear pieces they all wore. His was, of course, slightly different but no more bulky.

He heard the bite of static, then a response. “Copy that.”

Rogers shifted course immediately, having trust in his teammates after all the missions they’d been on together. He kept his shield up at the ready even with Hawkeye keeping careful watch. Black Widow was at the office door, bent close and likely picking the lock. 

Movement from behind the pair caught Clint’s eye, and he drew the bow back, hunting the shadows. “Be alert, possible company from the south.” Another dash of movement, and Hawkeye’s bow followed. Human shaped, moving carefully and steadily toward Black Widow. “Tasha, headed your way. One. I have a bead, but you can keep him quiet.” Bow still poised at the man, Clint made a quick scan of the rest of the shipping yard, looking for further movement.

“Got it.”

He looked back to her and watched her circle around, taking down the shadow in just a short flurry of movements. “Hydra!” she hummed through the earpieces. 

“Damn,” Cap growled just as he popped the container open. “Ambush, Widow, Hawk, be careful!” His words snapped off suddenly and Hawkeye watched him fall back into a fight. Men poured out of the container giving Clint new targets.

He swung his arms around, zeroed in on a rather large man with a gun and fired. The arrow zipped through the air and shafted into the side of the gun’s barrel with a crack. Before the noise finished it’s echoing, Hawkeye had let out a second which planted itself into the man’s boot, releasing a bolo of heavy rope that wrapped about him causing him to faceplant into the cement.

Cap had taken down two at a time, and Widow was making her way over. Clint caught a small team moving in now, about to cut Widow off from Cap.

“Right Tasha, five moving in quick. I’m coming down.” He aimed for a container near them, fired and used his bow to slide down the length of cable that now strung across.

Black Widow engaged, diving in low to swipe the feet out from the front man, then leaping up in almost the same breath to swing a punch to a second man. It glanced, but gave her time to move in again, leaping for his face to take him down with her legs.

When he was about fifteen feet away, Clint jumped from the line and nocked another arrow. He fired while calling out over the earpiece. “Close eyes!” A moment later, the arrowhead hit near the group and a bright flash and loud bang went off. 

Clint winced, forgetting the flash came with a bang, his hearing aid shrieking in his head. He didn’t let himself pause long, though, as he ran to Black Widow’s side and slammed the center of his bow into a man’s face. He fell back, Widow landed another, and they were charging into the group that Captain America was taking on by himself. 

They fell in naturally, until something went wrong. Clint pulled up to knock a net arrow, then full stopped as he saw Steve being pulled into a man’s arms, a gun going to his temple. He was half-out, blinking too slowly to be fully conscious. Clint hadn’t seen it happen; he hadn’t seen Cap in trouble but now….

“Stop, or I’ll pull it!”

Clint’s fingers had already made it to another arrow, a steel tipped one, and it was now aimed at the man and Captain America. “Let him go. Don’t be stupid; I can hit you before you can pull that trigger.”

The man smiled, “Can you, though?”

As the man’s arm twitched, Hawkeye released the arrow, aiming for the man’s shoulder. He knew where it would hit. He knew the arrow would sink into muscle and tendons that held it in place. He knew that the arrow would rip into that and the man would likely never use that arm again, but it didn’t matter if he was able to save Cap.

The arrow missed its mark. Or rather, the mark moved. The man stepped forward, leaning with the weight of Cap, and the arrow slid like a knife through butter right into his jugular. The man was still smiling as the blood splattered and he fell. Steve fell the opposite way, thrusting his hands out to catch himself.

Clint, in a daze, slowly lowered his bow. He stared at the dying man who chuckled and choked on his own blood. Clint was glued. He could not move his legs, no matter how his mind yelled to go to the man and stop the bleeding. Maybe he could still save him! That was, of course, the hopeful youth inside of Hawkeye. Rationally, he knew that man was dead the moment his arrow flew. 

“No,” he whispered, still staring. 

There were hands on him, wrapped about his arms, then on his face. Clint blinked, clearing his vision, and stared into Natasha’s eyes.

“Tasha, I killed him. I wasn’t even.... It was me this time. There’s no excuse, it was just me.”

Steve was standing, panting, and looking down at the now dead body. “Clint, they were soldiers. They were armed. Soldiers die.”

It wasn’t his most uplifting speech, but it was enough to make Clint move his feet. “The container. Anything else in it? Did you get the papers?” Clint needed to think of something else, anything else. The mission. It had to be a success if this had been such a failure. He looked from the open box to Natasha.

She shook her head, patted his shoulder, and jogged away. “Be back in a sec.”

Steve moved to the container again, peered in, and shook his head. “If they had anything, it’s gone now. I’ll call SHIELD to handle this part.” He was turning away, pulling out a phone.

He had to turn away. He had to stop looking at it. Collapsing his bow and strapping it to his back, Clint walked through the aisles of containers. Clint needed to get away. “I’m...checking the perimeter.” He didn’t get a response, but he knew they were each dealing with this.

He swept the area, found it empty, and climbed back to his perch on the building. He could see better from there, think better from there. “All clear,” he murmured and received affirmations. 

Then, he couldn’t stop walking. He jogged across the building, faster, leapt to the next over a small alley and dashed down the fire escape. He darted out into the neighborhood and kept running. He ran so far he could barely breathe when he stopped. His legs burned with acid in his veins and his head was spinning. He was somewhere on the outskirts of the city, definite business and manufacturing neighborhood. 

He knew it had to be somewhere here, based on the inside structure of the building. This area was the closest to what he'd seen.

Clint couldn’t breathe, but he kept walking. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, but he did not. He needed one set apart, with clear security and tech. As he approached a large building with a light on at the top, he finally stopped. Men in mixed tactical gear came from the shadows closest to the building and surrounded him, guns raised.

“Bring me to Loki.” He kept walking towards them, ignoring the weapons.

A laugh echoed across the parking lot, a very familiar laugh. “Let him through. Welcome home, Barton.” Loki stood at the front doors, looking healthy, regal even, in a new get-up. 

Some filthy relief welled in Clint as he approached the man, reaching out for his face. He pressed into Loki, their lips meeting roughly, and then the outside world disappeared and they stood in the middle of a familiar bedroom.


	5. Are We...Dating?!

Clinton had never been the one to start his and Loki’s prior engagements. Most of the time he had been directly under the influence of some magic or another, and once he had been outright raped. This time was different. This time, Clint had started it and he kept control throughout the exchange.

When they reappeared in Loki’s bedroom, Clint immediately ripped at their clothes. He needed to get them away, he needed to touch skin, he needed to be as close to another human being as was possible. He had the god with his leather dripping off his shoulders, pressed back against the closed door. Loki’s head was tossed back as Clint’s hands yanked the belt from around Loki’s waist, opening his pants now. Those hands pried the leather off long legs softly dusted in dark hair. Clint danced his fingertips from ankles to hips, planting intermittent kisses on the warm flesh. The helpless way Loki’s mouth fell open, the tightening of his muscles, it all built something up in Clint’s belly. This man was relying on every touch and Clint had him dancing on the brink of insanity.

Pressing his thighs further apart, Clint planted himself firmly on his knees instead of the uncomfortable crouch. He wrapped his sure fingers around Loki’s shaft, his other hand splaying above his hips to push him back tightly against the door. Clint took the god into his mouth, swallowing him down until he couldn’t breath. He pulled back, dragging his tongue along the backside of Loki’s dick, then curling about the top before sliding back down. He relaxed his throat as well as he could and felt the press of the erection slipping further down. He fought a gag, swallowed, and found his nose buried into coarse hair and warm skin. Loki’s skin smelled amazing. He gave off this warm scent that Clint could never get out of his head when they were alone together. Even under the suggestion of the scepter, Clint had actually enjoyed the scent.

Loki let out a groan and he tried to arch off of the door. Clint pinned his hips harder, not allowing him to move an inch. He worked his mouth and throat around Loki until he felt the god ready to burst at the seams. Clint backed up, dragged his forearm over his mouth, and gestured with a jerk of his chin to the bed. 

It took Loki a moment, and Clint watched him catching his breath, but he obeyed the command. On shaky legs, he climbed up onto the bed and stretched out on his back. He eyed Clint with those alluring greens, a color that had permanently permeated Clint’s memory. 

He stood up slowly from his kneeling position. He stood there, at the end of the bed, staring back at the man who had ruled over his life for months and used him for every whim he had. There was a power exchange here that had Clint’s blood singing. It was what he needed right now- to take back.

Buttons of his shirt were popped open. Loki watched, eyes following each movement. Then his pants were dropped, his boxers, shoes and socks. Clint stood naked before the god, allowing him to look over each curve and scar. It was intoxicating, the way he could feel the glances. It was almost as though Loki were running hands over those places. Clint shivered and then moved up onto the bed. He straddled the narrow hips, ground back on the erection with his ass. 

Hands flew to Clint’s hips and Loki gripped him tight, attempting to rut into him. Clint slapped his arms away and sat up on his knees. “Don’t touch, don’t move until I say.”

He could see Loki’s adam’s apple bob just before a growl of agreement was released. 

Clint lowered himself back down, slowly, and undulated his hips. As he created a slow, grinding pace, he put two of his fingers into Loki’s mouth. “Suck.”

Loki listened well and soon Clint’s fingers were slick with saliva. The pads of his fingers were given extra attention and he stuttered in his rhythm when they were first nipped at. Clint’s hands were sensitive, carefully protected considering his lifestyle. He had to admit, what Loki was doing felt amazing, but he had an end goal here. “Lick, I need them really wet.”

Deeming them ready, Clint pulled his hand back and reached behind himself. He had to pull off of Loki’s hips to reach properly, but it didn’t seem to bother the god once he realized what the archer was doing. Loki reached his own hand between them, then paused, waiting for permission.

Clint nodded and he felt Loki’s fingers slide behind his balls, over the sensitive area between his sack and his hole, then drift around the edges of where Clint had his own fingers firmly inside of himself. Loki didn’t add his fingers to it, but rather, sat them there to feel what Clint was doing to himself. Something about that close intimacy set off fireworks inside of Clint and his own dick hardened quickly. 

Pulling his fingers out carefully, Clint readjusted himself. He took hold of Loki’s erection now that Loki’s hands had relocated to Clint’s hips, and lowered himself onto the god. He took him in one motion, to the hilt, and both men groaned out incomprehensible babble for a moment.

Then he started. Clint planted his knees firmly on the bed and Loki planted his feet. They thrust together in hard, quick succession. What had started as almost gentle turned rough fast. Clint used his thighs to lift himself up and down, clenching his ass tactically around Loki’s dick as they moved. When Loki thrust up against him, their skin met with a slap, and Clint’s erection smacked into his stomach with each downward motion of Clint’s hips.

Feeling it build within, Clint leaned forward more, took hold of Loki’s long hair, and yanked the god up to his lips. He could feel Loki’s fingers digging into his back and knew there would be marks left over. Their rhythm became as sloppy as their kisses and they both came seconds apart.

XxxxxxxX

They had been lying together for nearly half an hour when Clint finally spoke up. His head was resting on Loki’s chest, and Loki was running continuous patterns over his bicep.

“I killed someone. Arrow right through the throat. Wasn’t even aiming for that but he sort of… he moved into it.”

Loki hummed. “I’ve killed plenty. Giants, men….”

There was silence in which one could hear the clock tick by seven seconds. “Yeah, well I haven’t. Chitauri, Skrull, but never a human.”

The tracing on his arm came to a halt, then picked up again. “Is there a difference?”

“Yes.” Clint answered automatically, but Loki’s question was swirling questions in his brain. They went silent again. He swore Loki knew exactly what was happening in his mind.

Clint had killed before. That was true. He’d taken out Chitauri during Loki’s last invasion. He’d killed Skrull during their invasion. But why did they matter less in his mind? He needed to know why he deemed their deaths acceptable when he couldn’t fathom the idea of killing humans who attacked, who were evil. 

Asgardians, either. He wouldn’t want to kill one of them.

“Because you know them. They’re familiar races with, what do you call them? Friendlies? You’re a good person, Clint, and that affects your judgement.”

“I would say it’s a positive affect.”

He could feel Loki shrug beneath him. “Perhaps. But at what cost to yourself? Your state of being is also important and anyone can see you are not fulfilled.”

Clint shifted to find a slightly more comfortable spot for his head. It also gave him a moment to think before responding. “And, what? You can help me find that fulfillment?”

“Yes.”

Yes. His voice was steady, sure. There wasn’t much Clint could say to argue against the confidence that Loki felt about this point. It seemed the one thing that remained constant in their relationship. Loki believed that somehow they could save each other. Clint didn’t think anyone could save him at this point, so why not let a god give it a try?

“Alright Scar, let’s play it your way for a while then.”

“Scar?”

“Yeah, well, the evil brother.” He settled his head back on Loki’s chest, listening to the rock steady heartbeat.

XxxxxxxX

For all Clint’s bravado, he didn't leave Loki’s room for two days. He was busy convincing himself that there was something to be gained in joining Loki, or rather, he was busy trying to keep himself from finding reasons to back out. On that second day, Loki came in requesting his help. 

“I need you to locate an abandoned Hydra base. You'll have a small team, including a scientist who is picking up readings that will help you locate it.” Loki was already walking away, expecting Clint to follow as he did under the Tesseract’s control. He did, though maybe a little more reluctantly.

“Where am I taking them?”

“Poland.” Loki was so casual about it, Clint didn't have the inclination to think about what going on to foreign soil could mean for his own record. He was not being mind controlled this time.

The team was ready by the time they made it down stairs, and Clint was strapping into a plane shortly after that. He had enough time to ask why Loki wasn't coming, and was rewarded with a soft smile and a shake of the head. 

“This is your mission, pet. Have fun.”

Clint probably couldn't say he had fun leading a bunch of mouth breathers and wastes of space into Poland and scouring the countryside with them, but he was successful. They found the old camp, one that looked like a very bad science-based concentration camp, and they found the item Loki was looking for. It was a weapon, and it seemed too basic for Loki to be concerned with, but the readings were clear. This sword was emitting something important and the scientist who Clint didn't get the name of was having a mild aneurysm as he scanned the thing.

Clint just wanted to get back to the compound and talk with Loki. The man had a lot of plans, a lot of work, and they hadn't gotten to talk much since the night Clint fucked him. He hurried his new team along, foregoing any jokes he'd normally crack and settled into brooding silence once they were back on the plane for home.

He knew this wasn't him. He knew that his behaviour was a major change, but his whole life had been a big toss around lately, so it only followed that he would have to change everything to keep up with the curve balls being thrown his way.

Once back at the compound, he delivered the sword to Loki and pulled him away. Loki obliged only after securing the sword in a side laboratory. Clint put up with the momentary delay, but when they got to the bedroom, he shut the door with a sharp snap and pressed into the man.

“Fuck me.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I have work to do, pet.” 

There was a visible flinch at the term, but Clint’s hands didn’t let go of the leather jacket. “Please.”

Slowly, a grin spread over Loki’s face. “You know I enjoy it when you beg of me.”

Clint dropped down to his knees. “I need you to use me...My Liege.” The words felt odd in his mouth, like he was speaking around marbles, but he knew the way Loki’s eyes lit up at the acknowledgement of power. “Use every piece of me, anyway you need. Make me useful.” And that was it, wasn't it? To feel useful again.

Loki’s hand moved out, dragging along Clint’s cheek. It sat still, only his thumb working along Clint’s cheekbone and they stayed still, staring at one another. Loki was drinking in Clint’s expression, the archer was sure of it. He could feel a warm tingle in his spine which worked its way into his brain and warmed him from inside out.

Then, everything soft ended. 

The way Loki bent and stretched Clint’s body was mostly uncomfortable. The tight grips, the sharp nails biting into his flesh, and the hurried pace of the god’s hips made his body ache. Clint wasn’t sure how long they kept it up, but they managed to knock things off the desk, tip over a lamp, demolish the desk chair, and wind up sprawled on the bed with the sheets scattered on the floor. Clint’s muscles were spasming in his thighs and his ass stung from the open-palm slaps it had received. His hips were lined in red from the way they’d been gripped. In short, he was a pile of pain from getting every last little thing he’d asked for.

Clint was starting to see the appeal that people found in the BDSM community, and Loki hadn’t even used tools, just hands, teeth, and lips. He felt… complete.

His eyes were heavy and he let them slip shut for a few heartbeats. When they opened back up, he found that maybe he’d dozed longer than he thought. Loki was gone and a sheet was tossed over Clint, tucked about his chest. A brief moment of, “I should get up”, passed through his mind but he dismissed it quickly. 

Instead, Clint lay there staring at the window across from the bed. The sun was dropping in the sky, but it was definitely still the afternoon. The blinds were half-opened and casting light across the bottom half of the bed. Stretching, Clint slowly moved to spread out in the light and take in it’s warmth. Everything still ached and some more acute pain was starting to set in. Good. He had served his purpose, given something to Loki, and the pain would hold as a reminder. 

He blinked slowly and an image of that arrow slicing through the man’s neck flooded his memory. It painted the backs of his eyelids red and his eyes snapped back open. Fuck that. He didn’t need that right now. That was what he was trying to escape. 

Kate was right; Clint was good at running. He’d had a lot of practice over the years, and it usually helped him out some. It was how he coped. Besides, it saved the people he was running away from. Clearly he wasn’t cut out for a normal relationship after how his others had ended, and how this new one was going. 

Clint took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried to empty his mind. This place could be good for him. Loki would tell him what to do, would find some use for him, and direct him. That’s what he needed, to not think. Just do.

Loki came back in the room when the sun was casting bright pinks and oranges across the bed. Clint was still there, naked and sprawled.

“You should eat,” said the Asgardian.

“Okay.” Clint didn’t move.

Loki rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Get up. Get dressed.” Clint still didn’t move, just watched the other man. “Now!”

With a jolt, the archer climbed back up and scrambled into his clothes. “Alright, alright. Where we going?”

“Out. You need to eat.”

Clint scoffed out a breath. “So do you.”

Loki waved a dismissive hand, but started changing as well. It was odd, seeing the Asgardian in dress slacks and a button down. He added a suit jacket, and the two were headed out shortly after. Clint was still in his clothes from earlier, the black cargo pants, black t-shirt, and leather coat. If he was looking at the two of them from an outsider perspective, he’d have to admit, they looked good together. 

“This a date?”

Loki actually stumbled mid-step. “What?”

Clint looked over, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Well, we’re fucking and now we’re going out just the two of us. Are we, you know, going on a date?”

“I suppose you could call it that. Do you want to call it that?” Loki climbed into an old, remodeled Camaro. 

Following after, Clint strapped in. “Not really.”

They drove into town and Loki pulled up in front of an Italian place. Clint chuckled. “Cliche. Shoulda guessed you’d be that type.”

Loki glowered over at him, shut off the car, and climbed out to toss the keys to a valet. Clint had no choice but to follow, or be driven away with the car. He jogged a few steps to keep up with Loki and they were seated almost immediately. 

“Making a name for yourself already?”

“Well, my new tech company is right up there with Stark and Hammer Industries.” 

Clint’s face was lined with surprise. “You own HalTech?”

“Through some very careful investments and maneuvers, yes. I had to set up a completely new identity here, of course.” Loki unfolded a napkin onto his lap.

The action made Clint look around more closely at their surroundings. “We’re a little underdressed, aren’t we?” Everyone else was in suits and dresses. 

Loki leaned his forearms on the table, trying to draw Clint’s attention back to him. Clint obliged shortly, busy spotting the exits and quickest routes out of the place. He was also checking out the people, figuring out which ones posed the biggest threats. Habits, they die not at all.

“I wanted to be comfortable, and figured this suited you better.”

“Mm.” Clint mechanically unfolded his own napkin and laid in on his left leg. He plopped his elbows on the table top and looked up when a waitress came over. 

She chattered about specials, asked about drinks, and Loki took control of the ordering. Clint didn’t even have to open his mouth once. He did manage to get in a smile to the girl, who eyed the purple hearing aids, and smiled back.

Clint rolled his eyes and looked back over at Loki. “What’s your endgame?”

“With us?” Loki sipped at the water the waitress had brought them.

“No, with the company. Going to try and take over humanity again?”

That trademark grin touched the corners of Loki’s lips. “I thought about either chemical warfare or a nasty little virus to wipe everyone out, actually. Total destruction of the insignificant insects.”

Clint’s eyes went a bit wide and his mouth jawed wordlessly as he tried to sort out the truthfulness behind the statement. “You. You’re planning on mass genocide of...the entire human race?”

Loki looked Clint up and down, licked his lips slowly, and the grin turned from devious to sensual. “Well, maybe not all of them.”

With a shake of his head, Clint stared in disbelief. That is, until Loki started laughing.

“Oh! You’re as easy as my half-wit brother.” They sat back when the waitress set food and wine down, then Loki fell back to the conversation. “I merely want to run some of the most powerful and influential companies on earth. Apparently, your highest businessmen live like Kings.”

Clint shook his head again, settling back down. “You’re ridiculous. But, that sounds much better than your previous ideas.”

Their chatter after was focused on Loki’s plans with his business and how Clint would fit in with all of it. Acquisitions. That was the basic description when you break down to the base of the position. And the personal protection of the god.

“So...are we um, dating?” Clint was walking outside with Loki, heading for the valet stand and he was trying to put together that last couple of days and figure out what the hell he was doing.

“That’s what you mortals call it, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Then, yes, I suppose we are.”


	6. Are you there, Clint...

Clinton hadn’t left the compound in three days. For no particular reason aside from not having much to do while Loki played CEO down in the labs. Clint had taken the time to wander the facility, finding that the warehouse front was a pretty good front. The lower levels were of SHIELD or Avengers levels of wicked. The elevator Clint found listed twelve levels with basic names regarding sciences, and beyond that were six more marked, “High Level Security Access ONLY” and required a swipe card and print read.

He hadn’t gotten a swipe card yet, and hadn’t thought to ask Loki about it. For now. It took him roughly two hours to tour the entirety of the sections he had access to, and then he found himself in the common area on the top floor. A few of Loki’s higher guards and two scientists he favored had access to this area, and some of them were sitting around a table playing poker. Clint was ignoring them, his hearing aids sitting on the bedside table. 

Clint sat on a couch, watching a movie without the volume on, getting by on subtitles. It helped keep the others in the room from being annoyed and Clint usually had to use the subtitles anyway. Especially if there was an accent, or the battle scenes were too loud. His stomach growled and he, unthinking, reached over for his phone, meaning to call for a pizza. It wasn’t there, because he’d left it in the bedroom and he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to order pizza to the compound. His eyes fell to the floor and upon seeing empty floor and no Lucky, he cursed under his breath. He knew Kate would take care of the dog, but he still felt a twinge of pain at abandoning the one creature that had managed to love him without judgement. Well, okay, there had been a lot of judgement the last time that he’d come home since the dog hadn’t been fed. Well, that was what Clint was good at, wasn’t it? Letting people down. Why not add Lucky to the list.

He was starting to fall into a self-hate spiral when a shadow drew his attention upwards. Loki was standing next to the couch, looking down at him. He was in his Asgardian leathers, the horned crown tucked under his arm. He could be rather pretentious in his own compound. Clint stared up at him, pointed to his ears, and shook his head. 

Loki tossed his head towards the door, then walked that way. 

Catching a hint, Clint got up and followed after him. They went into their bedroom and Clint popped his hearing aids back in. He fiddled with the frequency a moment, then nodded to Loki.

“What are you thinking about?”

Clint frowned. 

“Out there, you were quite caught in your thoughts. Regarding?” Loki pressed in close to Clint, reaching a hand out to his face and cupping his left cheek as he always did. The stroke of his thumb back and forth across Clint’s cheekbone turned Clint’s thoughts to crumbling.

“Lucky. And that I really want to order a pizza.” Okay, so he was pushing the hunger over the emotions, because he really didn’t want to get into an emotional chat with Loki right now.

Loki didn’t pull his hand away, but he nodded and pulled out a cellphone. “Call. I’m going to shower and change.” He dropped the phone in Clint’s hand and headed for the bathroom. “Oh, and pet? Forget about the others. It will do you no good to dwell on what’s past.”

Turning his head, he visually followed Loki’s back as the god disappeared into the bathroom. The door was left half-open and he could see the long jacket sliding to the floor. Then the rest of the leather fell away, leaving Loki’s shoulders bare. He was thinner than Clint, but the muscle was there. He was very well built in his slim way, and Clint looked down at himself. He ran a hand over his belly, the little pudge that beer and pizza had added over the last few years. Moving out of the Avengers’ Tower and into his own place had been great, considering he had his own place and helped an entire apartment full of people keep their homes, but it did mean he wasn’t training as heavily anymore. He was getting soft and his stout form was reflecting that more than he’d like.

Shaking his head, Clint sat at the desk and called a pizza joint down the road. He gave directions and received a couple questions. “Late night at work,” he said finally, hoping that would satisfy the kid on the other end. “So, yeah, ordering it to a warehouse.”

He flipped the phone shut, chuckled that Loki would have a flip phone in this day and age. He leaned his arms on the table and tapped his fingers, eyeing the bathroom. He and Loki hadn’t had sex since that second night back, so twice in a consensual and mind-control free way. Clint was wondering if he really wanted to do that again. He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that he could enjoy sex with a guy, that he was actually turned on by another guy. Still, knowing that Loki was behind that shower door, naked and lathering himself up with soap twisted something in Clint’s gut and he could feel the erection starting to strain at his fly. He palmed it, rubbing the heel of his hand against it while he watched the blurry form behind the glass stretch up to wash shampoo out of his hair.

Clint had always been bottomed. He wasn’t sure Loki ever wanted to switch places, but that didn’t really bother Clint. He, apparently, found a lot of pleasure in the ‘catching’ position. Not only that, but it made him feel a sense of usefulness. A few minutes later, before Clint could actually decide to do anything, Loki came out with a towel about his hips, and a hand towel rubbing his hair. He had defined abs and this deep V leading below the towel that the archer’s eyes followed hungrily.

“Pizza will be here soon, Clint. Stop that line of thought. For now.”

His eyes snapped to Loki’s face at those words. “Huh?”

“I can see your sex-driven needs written all over your face. Not right now.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized he was being so obvious, but come on, he was staring at the guy like he was a slab of meat. “Yeah, obviously. Pizza before sex, man.”

Loki looked pretty pointedly at Clint’s tummy. “Mm, maybe not too much.”

Clint tossed his hands out in an exasperated challenge. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

The god pulled the towel from his head, his hair somehow falling perfectly into place. Stupid fucking Asgardian. “If you’re too full, you’ll not be at pique performance.”

He calmed down almost immediately when he realized the remark wasn’t about his size. “Mm. Good point. Maybe we’ll get the pizza, have sex, then eat after.”

That little grin of Loki’s used to worry Clint, somewhere deep below the workings of the Tesseract, but now it was turning him to excitement. That’s just what they did, too. The pizza was brought in, set on their desk, and the two fell at each other in a frenzy. 

Loki let his towel drop away and pointed at the floor in front of him. Clint had been through this scenario before, so went to his knees and brushed his hands up Loki’s thighs. He looked up at him, lips slightly parted in expectation, but Loki didn’t press his hips forward yet.

Instead, he looked down at Clint with that grin still in the corner of his mouth and pushed the hair back from Clint’s forehead. “You look good on your knees, pet. It looks natural for you.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed slightly, something twinging in his chest at the words. Instead of thinking too much about it, he grabbed hold of Loki’s shaft with one hand and slid his lips over the head, swirling his tongue around and taking in the velvety feel of the other man. It was interesting, experiencing this outside of the forced mind-control, and Clint went slowly, exploring. He sucked his cheeks in when he pulled back, pressed down until he could feel Loki at the back of his throat, then kept going until he had almost all of the god in his mouth. It choked him slightly, but he relaxed his throat and pulled back again, pressing his tongue along the underside of the shaft as he went. Everytime he drew a noise from Loki, he tried the motion again then moved on to another.

Loki pulled them apart after a few minutes and ushered Clint onto the bed. “Feet on the floor, upper body on the bed,” he said. He stood behind Clint once the archer was bent over the end of the bed and aligned their hips up.

Loki took control from there, working the archer open and pressing his way inside of him. They worked up a rhythm, and Clint felt the guiding hands all over his hips, sometimes at the back of his neck or wrapped into his hair tightly, and Clint was the first to come.

  
“Roll over,” Loki growled when he pulled out of Clint.

The archer obeyed, lying down on his back and looking up at Loki with a question. His own dick was starting to go soft from having come already, but Loki’s was hard, reddish, and glistening. Loki climbed up, planting his knees on either side of Clint’s chest, dick right in Clint’s face. Loki took hold of his own erection and jerked himself off.

“Open your mouth,” he hummed, back arching.

Clint did, watching the man get closer and closer to climax. Loki came, spurting cum all over Clint’s face. Clint closed his eyes. A bit made it into his mouth, but not all of it. He was a mess by the time Loki had finished and when he opened his eyes again, he found Loki’s dick pressing into his mouth.

“Clean it off.” The commands were short, familiar, and Clint continued to obey. He licked the slowly softening shaft free of cum and swallowed it all down, trying to ignore the cum across his face. Loki grinned down at him, ruffled his hair, and then pulled away.

Loki climbed off of the bed, grabbed his abandoned towel and wiped his hips clean again, then tossed the towel back at Clint. “Get cleaned up before you fall asleep in our bed. I have work to do, then I’ll be back.” He was getting dressed and Clint was still fumbling for the towel, his face uncomfortable from his little facial. “Maybe be a little useful while I’m gone and change the sheets, hmm?”

With that, Loki left Clint alone in the bedroom, still sitting in the middle of the bed with cum in his hair and sort of wiped off of his face. Alone.

“What the fuck just happened…” The archer spoke out loud to just himself, and he looked rather confused. That was not how he’d expected things to go his third time with Loki. It wasn’t necessarily bad. Loki had gotten him off, hadn’t been overly rough with him, and it had certainly been consensual. Clint hadn’t said no a single time, but something about it felt wrong. “Shut up, Barton, and get cleaned up.”

He could still smell the pizza sitting there, waiting for him. But first, he showered, changed the sheets, and got dressed. He needed to leave the bedroom, the energy here that still felt wrong.

He was soon sitting back on the couch in the now empty common room with his box of pizza, watching t.v. with the volume on and hearing aids in. He made it through one slice of pizza and was holding a second one, staring down at his slightly pudgy tummy and tossed it back in the box. He flipped the lid closed and pushed the box as far away on the coffee table as he could manage.

Clint picked up the remote and channel surfed, ignoring any thought that tried to pop into his head. Eventually, he found himself curled up in the corner of the couch, also ignoring his rumbling stomach, and half asleep with re-runs of Golden Girls marathoning on the t.v. He didn’t go back to the bedroom that night, and when he woke the next morning, the t.v. was still on, the room was being intruded on, and his back ached from the bad positioning on the couch. 

He moved out of the room, slowly, stretching and could hear the whispers behind him. When he tuned his aids well enough, they could pick up almost anything. He didn't want to hear what the men had to say about him, so he picked up his pace and shut himself in the bedroom long enough to change his clothes, brush his teeth, and wash his face. Then, he grabbed his bow and a quiver of arrows, which he strapped to his thigh, and went looking for a place to practice.

Loki had off-handedly mentioned a floor of training rooms, so Clint went looking. He didn't bother asking anyone, preferring to take time to himself. It also didn't take long. He went to a weapons testing floor and found the practice rooms in the back. One was even marked archery, and it was empty, not to mentioned styled in purples and blues.

Clint smirked and took up a stance before one of the targets. He plucked an arrow from the thigh quiver and pulled it taut on his bow. He held the stance for a while, breathing in slow deep breaths as he eyed the target. As minutes ticked by, his arm started to shake from the 90 pound pull. It was less than he usually used, but he hadn’t been working out enough. He shot the arrow and watched it hit bullseye, though slightly pulled left in the red circle. Adequate.

He pulled another arrow and retook his proper stance. He held the bow strung again until his arms started to shake and fired. Over and over, until the thirty arrow quiver was empty.

By the end, there were arrows all across the target. Some had been purposefully aimed for something other than bullseye, but a few had been accidental. He sighed and walked to the target, retrieving the fired arrows and replacing them in the quiver. He only broke one. Then he took up his stance and started again.

Loki stepped in and Clint knew right away. He knew the sound of his walk and the scent that followed the Asgardian. Clint didn't bother turning around, instead he fired off three rapid shots in the time it took Loki to say, “Clint.”

He paused, a fourth arrow nocked and arm drawn back to fire.

Loki continued, “Apparently, you need the practice.”

Clint made a gruffing sound and let the arrow fly. Dead center bullseye. “That is why I'm down here.”

“I'll need your archery skills soon. You have two weeks to get back up to par.” The way his eyes travelled over Clint had the archer squirming self-consciously. 

“I will be fine by then.”

“Mm.” Loki nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Please, continue. I want to watch.”

Clint had never really been negatively affected by people watching him. In fact, he used to like to show off. When sparring with Captain America, he often challenged the man directly, thinking he could out maneuver him. Sometimes, Hawkeye did come out the winner, actually, and it was always when he was focused and not trying to show off. Now, though, he could hear the little huffs and murmurs from Loki. He knew exactly when his newest lover wasn’t satisfied or amazed. Somehow, he thought it would bother him less if that dissatisfaction came in the bedroom. To be scrutinized so closely here, with a bow and arrow in his hands, it felt like his entire world was being broken down.

Rolling his shoulders, Clint plucked the last arrow from his quiver and nocked it. He pulled it back, his shoulder blades slowly coming together. His biceps quivered, his forearms went taut. He had gone through the quiver four times at this point, and the center of the bullseye remained open once more. Suddenly, he loosened his grip, keeping the arrow in place but bowstring loose. Clint turned, looked at Loki dead in the eyes, then without looking back, raised the bow and shot the arrow. He heard the thump, a splitting noise, and he grinned slowly.

Loki frowned, nodded once as approval, and left the room. When Hawkeye looked back, he found the arrow buried so deep in the center of the target, that the wooden circle had split down the middle, fractured like a lightning bolt.

The smile on Clint’s face slowly fell away. What did that little stunt prove? He retrieved the arrows that were still in one piece and started the process all over again, moving over to the next target. He worked his way through the quiver until every last one was broken. He hunted down a meal after that and only quit when Loki called him to their bed. 


	7. ...it's me, Self Respect.

Clinton made the gym his new favorite place. For the two weeks given to him to practice and get back in shape, he took complete advantage. By the time Loki asked him to retrieve an item for him, Hawkeye was splitting his bullseye arrows again. He’d also worked up to shooting two at the same time. The three shot trick wasn’t quite where it needed to be for accuracy. He’d work on that when he got back.

“Hawkeye, you’re going in alone.” Loki was leading him to one of the private sectors of the building. “We need you to bring in a shipment of weapons that were taken by A.I.M. They were supposed to be brought here and broken down for the technology inside of them. Now, they’re in a warehouse, we think, guarded by only a handful of men.”

They stepped into a room where people in lab coats were putting different pieces of technology together. Clint glanced around and zeroed in on the table they were approaching. Two women were fitting arrowheads to shafts and they looked up when Clint and Loki approached. He offered them what might amount to a smile, if they were looking really hard for it.

“I’ve had them put together some of your favorite types- small explosive tips, knockout gasses, bola, and suction. Among others, of course. Each are color coordinated; the lethal ones are marked in red.” Loki picked one such arrow up, pointing out the bands of red about the shaft near the arrowhead. “Adamantium tipped.”

It was well built, Clint could admit that at least. He wasn’t sure what Loki was driving at, pointing out the lethal arrows specifically. Perhaps a warning, having Clint understand that that arrows could, in fact, kill his targets if he wasn’t careful. He’d limited his use of regular arrows, or deadly enhanced tips, while with the Avengers. But, he wasn’t with them anymore, was he? And it hadn’t exactly helped him avoid killing someone anyway. Perhaps what Loki was doing was pointing out that he was okay with Clint using deadly force, even encouraging it.

Clint folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I’ll be needing to kill anyone just to retrieve a crate of weapons.”

Loki smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and put the arrow back down. “Up to you, of course. Suit up.” He pointed towards a closet near the back of the room. “I’ve got one more surprise after we leave this room.”

Making his way back to the closet, Clint opened it up to find a small changing room and a new suit. It was leather, which didn’t surprise him considering the seeming fetish the Asgardian had with the material. It was also a mix of deep blues and royal purples. He slipped into it, sleeves long but ending just below the elbow on the arm he held the bow with. Hanging up was a bracer, which he added. The suit was tight, but still managed to allow movement. It also had hidden sheaths and little pouches for anything he might need to bring with him on a mission. 

Stepping out, Loki and the women helped him add the proper quiver, knives, and even a couple handguns. Once he was fully suited and armed, Loki led him back up to the garage that opened to the outside. It was Loki’s private garage area where he kept a few cars he’d collected. Added to the cars was a motorcycle, or crotch-rocket was more like it. The thing looked fast, and hopefully quiet.

“I thought this might work out better for you than a car. The weapon crate isn’t large and you should be able to carry it in this.” He handed Clint a large backpack. 

Narrowing his eyes, Clint took it. He wasn’t sure what sort of weapons they were after, but they couldn't be large at all if they were going to fit into a backpack. He also wasn’t sure how he was going to find the things. He’d leap that hurdle when he got there though. With a nod, he took the pack, slung it over his shoulders, and straddled the bike. “Kiss for luck?” 

Loki stepped up, grinning, and planted his lips to Clint’s. The archer had asked, of course, but hadn’t completely expected it. Still, he kissed the man back. When they pulled away, Clint tried to feel as though he’d made some connection with Loki but it just felt hollow. He smiled anyway and kicked the bike on. Loki opened the bay door and Clint shot out, bow, arrows, and a bag strapped to his back with guns and knives on his thighs and hips.

It had been a while since he’d taken on a solo mission where he had to tap into the knowledge he’d gained working under Fury and SHIELD. Natasha had been on most of those missions, anyway. 

XxxxxxX

Clint was racing back to the compound, a small wooden box in the backpack strapped to him. Most of the arrows were gone from the quiver and he had a cut across a cheek, a gash in his side, and possibly a sprained ankle. Still, he’d made it out with the prize and was nearly home in the pink light of a slowly rising sun. 

He pulled into the private bay, the door opening as he drew close enough. He parked the bike and pulled out his cellphone. 

_Where r u? Im bck_

He started walking through the garage, into the larger main bay where some soldier milled about. They glanced up at him, then back to their card games or conversations.

_Laboratories. Please meet me in our bedroom._

_U dnt wnt me 2 bring the wpns to lab?_

_No. I will deal with that tomorrow. Right now, I want you._

_OK. C u thr_

Clint found it interesting that Loki wouldn’t give into ‘txt spk’. Of course, Clint had started getting into it just to annoy Natasha, but now it was so ingrained that his fingers did it for him naturally. He jogged up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom. He should get a quick shower before Loki made it up there. He dropped the bag on the desk chair, his clothes and weapons on the floor, then climbed into a cold shower. It didn’t matter much; he just wanted to do a quick soap up and wash down. He was stepping out with a towel in his hands, rubbing furiously at his head, when the door opened. 

“Hey,” Clint murmured from under the towel. 

“I trust it went smoothly?”

“Mhm.” Dropping the towel, Clint kicked aside some of the things he left on the floor and took a seat on the bed. “Miss me?”

Loki’s eyes went up and down his body, pausing on the wound on his side, then the cut on his face. He quirked an eyebrow up and folded his arms dramatically.

Clint looked down at the scrapes, having had cleaned them up in the shower. It had stopped bleeding on the drive over. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse, trust me.”

“Did anyone realize who you were? Did anyone follow you?” He was moving to the discarded quiver, picking it up and inspecting the leftover arrows. Two had yellow bands, one had a blue band. A grin touched at Loki’s lips as he turned to look at Clint for his answer.

“No one followed me.” His tone was darker than he meant, but it proved his point. 

Letting the quiver fall back down, the arrows held fast in their spots locked in magnetically. The god prowled over to the bed. As he reached across the space for Clint’s towel, his clothes shimmered and disappeared. 

Staring up at Loki, Clint released the towel and spread his legs more to allow room for the other man to press in closer. Loki bent down to him, grabbing Clint’s face with a hand. He tilted his head up and put his teeth to his neck, biting into the soft flesh. With a grimace, Clint put his hands up along Loki’s sides, exposing his neck a bit better. He was pushed back and went with it, stretching out on the bed width-wise. It left his legs dangling over the edge and had Loki planting a knee between Clint’s legs. He felt his erection and balls press against a soft thigh. He grunted when Loki leaned closer, pressing down even more on the erection.

Loki chuckled, nipped his way up to Clint’s mouth and swallowed down the gasps when he ground his legs against Clint. The man pulled back and whispered across his lips, “You’re looking better, pet. Your work with the arrows has done you well.”

Clint hummed and pressed back up to the mouth. Better. Well, he’d put in time training again. He let Loki grab his legs, maneuvering his hips so that Loki could get his own erection pushed against Clint’s center.

“Wait…” Clint grunted, hand flailing for the bedside table. He knew lube was kept there and he was intent on it being used this time.

Loki caught on, helped him get it, and applied it. The top clicked closed after Clint was wettened and it had been rubbed along Loki’s shaft, then the bottle was tossed aside. There was a quick pressure as Loki slipped inside of Clint. The archer grunted, pressed his knees further apart to open himself more.

They found their rhythm quickly this time, no playful start, no teasing. Loki wrapped a hand about Clint’s cock, pumping in time with his own thrusts. Watching his face, the way he kept it turned up away from Clint and his eyes mostly closed, Clint knew he wasn’t going to be at this long. Biting his lip and giving into the feeling, Clint also tossed his head back and closed his eyes. He came just before Loki but it certainly wasn’t his best orgasm. It was all base physicality, boring.

Loki’s face twisted and his mouth bowed open in his pleasure. Clint watched, etching the lines and curves. He seemed to have enjoyed himself, and that was enough for now. After all, it had been Loki who had said he needed Clint this time around. When he pulled out, Loki smiled down at Clint, patted his thigh, and turned away.

“Getting a shower, then we should eat something.”

The urge to say pizza washed over Clint, but as he sat up and looked at his tummy, he shook his head lightly. “Want me make something?” There was a stocked kitchen in the common area on their floor.

“Mm, sounds acceptable.”

Clint wiped himself clean with a discarded shirt then rooted around for a pair of sweats in the dresser. “Want anything in particular?”

He didn’t hear a response and looked up. The bathroom door was closed. With a sigh, Clint pulled the pants on and headed for the kitchen. He was just finishing up putting together a couple steaks and veggies when Loki sat at the breakfast nook with an electronic reader. From that pad, he could look over all of his labs and see any updated records or files the scientists and soldiers were working on. Clint knew because he’d seen Loki working on it in bed some nights.

He plated the food and sat down next to the most complicated relationship he’d yet to be in. “Anything interesting going on?” He shoved steak in his mouth, chewing and waiting.

“Nothing you’d understand.” Loki clicked off the reader and cut into his own food, taking a more delicate bite.

Clint frowned. “Want a beer?”

Loki shook his head. “Not really the best choice in beverage, is it?”

“It’s perfect with steak, man.” He had an incredulous smile, questioning the man’s taste in food/beverage pairings. 

“Valid point, and yet, not good for the body.”

Clint’s blue eyes scanned the Asgardian. He wasn’t sure the man could actually put on fat. He was whip-thin, though well muscled. He shrugged though, and hovered on the chair in debate over getting one for himself. Did he really need one? He was getting back in shape and that would only set him back. So he stayed sitting there, eating instead. If he glanced over and saw a smile on Loki’s face, he didn’t say anything about it.

XxxxxxxX

Clint lay on his back in the middle of the training room. He’d added some things to the place, different weights and machines, obstacles and what not to work out more than his aim. It had been three weeks since he’d brought those weapons back to Loki and he’d dropped more weight. It was amazing how quickly he was able to knock off the poundage. Of course, his boyfriend was a great cheerleader. He kept Clint on track and the archer appreciated it.

Now, he was panting and sweating, wondering what time it was. There weren’t windows, wasn’t a clock, and he often lost time in this room. His rumbling stomach let him know he needed to eat soon, though. He’d learned to portion things out now, and cooked most of his own food instead of ordering in. 

The kitchen was empty today and as he checked his phone, he found it was three o’clock. He had a couple messages from Loki.

_I’ll be in the laboratories until noon, if you’d like to join me for lunch after._   
_Guess I am taking lunch alone?_   
_Keep up the good work. I’ll see you later tonight. I have another mission coming up for you._

Clint typed with one hand as he pulled out some leftovers and tossed them in the microwave.  
 _Sry i missed foods. Im don niw. Wanna cum ovr herr?_

He sent it with the typos, knowing Loki would piece it together and being too lazy to fix them up. He chowed down, waiting for a response. None came. Clint frowned and wiped his hands on his pants. Picking up the phone, he went to the bedroom and found it empty. “Hmm.”

He briefly thought of showering, but ditched that in favor of locating his boyfriend. The word had sunk in over the last couple of weeks. That’s what they were, after all. They slept together, exclusively. They went on a few dates, mostly coffee or out to get Loki some new clothes, but it was enough for their relationship. Loki explained a lot of his ideas to Clint, though always on some basic level without getting into the science.

Tony and Bruce used to spout science-talk at Clint and he’d always found it really interesting. He could actually keep up with a lot of it, but Loki seemed to not want to bother him with the boring details. 

He found Loki in the lab where a few people were pulling apart the weapons. They had been staffs that glowed a weird orange and something within seemed to be producing that glow. The scientist moved it all very carefully and Clint wondered if he shouldn’t have been so rough in their extraction. Loki hadn’t given him any warning so he assumed they’d been stable in their casings.

“Hey, you leaving the labs any time soon, Lok?”

The Asgardian turned around, frowning. “Most likely not. Go find something to do, pet. I need to work.” 

Clint sighed. “Okay, like what?”

“I don’t know.” Loki was biting his words, trying to keep a calm tone. Of course, Clint should have known not to bother him while he was working. He really didn’t like that and Clint understood. You get into your thoughts and outside distractions take away from what you’re doing. It’s why he kept up high, away from others when he needed to think. “Here, go out and get yourself something.” Loki was now holding out a black credit card. The business card. Clint knew there was a shit-ton of credit line on that thing.

“You sure?”

“Would I hand it over if I wasn’t?” This time, the tone was actually annoyed.

Clint took it and left quickly. He had no idea what he wanted to do with this stupid thing. He took it in spite, though. Clint went on a little shopping spree, getting himself a new bow, a new pair of converse, and actually went to the movie theater. It was some action flick with a lot of bad fighting which he picked on quietly the entire time. Still, it was an afternoon out. The almost normality of it had him confused and wandering around outside of the compound at 10p.m., not ready to give up and go back inside yet.

His phone buzzed and he checked it.

_I need you._

Clint didn’t need to read anything further. He texted back that he’d be right there and went inside, even though he had wanted to wander around a bit longer. Loki needed him, and so he went.


	8. Well That's That

Clinton had been away from his life with the Avengers and his Bed-Stuy apartment now for nearly three months. He had been on a few runs for Loki, mostly retrieval, and often armed fatally. He wondered, heading out to steal a container of adamantium from a laboratory the techs had tracked down, if Loki would find out that he hadn’t actually killed anyone on these missions. He assured the god that no one followed, but how sure could Clint be? What if one of these times someone actually found a way to track and follow him? If Loki’s base of operations was discovered, Clint would be dead, he was sure of it.

He pushed the throttle on the bike faster. This time he was accompanied by an SUV full of Loki’s soldiers, though he was point man and first entry. Once he gave the signal, they’d come in and load up their containers full of the newly created adamantium. They had less than eight minutes for the transfer from the lab’s containers to their own heated ones. It had to remain around 1,500 degrees fahrenheit or they wouldn’t easily be able to shape it later. 

Hawkeye, in his new getup from Loki, cut the bike and coasted around the last corner. He ditched it in the shadows and took to the fire escape on the side of the building. The security wasn’t high as it was thought to have been untraceable. It had a cover of being a nutrition lab, making healthy cereals for children. Right. Well, Loki’s techs saw through that somehow and now Clint was crawling along the flat roof, approaching the stairwell door that led down to the top floor. Bow in one hand, he tested the handle and found it unlocked. He smirked, slipped inside and headed on silent feet down the stairs.

He made it through the stairwell quickly. Each floor he paused and opened the door but the hallways were darkened. Then he hit the floors that extended beneath the ground. Two of them, patrolled.

“Two floors beneath the first; I’m about to go in and clear them. Roof access and stairwell down is completely clear.” A small team could open the lab from the inside without tripping any alarms.

“Understood, Hawkeye. Alpha Team is in position, deploying Recon One on your signal.”

Hawkeye gripped his bow in one hand and pushed open the door to the main floor of labs. Yanking three arrows from the quiver, he lined up his shots and let them loose. A sonic arrow screeched between the two armed guards. They dropped their automatics to cover their ears. The guns were still strapped to them, but that didn’t matter when the blunted sticky arrows smacked them both in the back, sending them to the floor and pinning them there. Hawkeye was right behind his arrows, sending a foot then a fist aimed carefully at their heads. They were knocked out seconds later. He slipped across the hall, pressing flat near a bank of windows that looked into a lab. It was mostly computers; not the one they needed. Pulling up his wrist, he used a little mirror to glance into it without peering his entire body around. Two men in lab coats had their backs to him. 

Moving into the room was easy enough. The passcode pad was overridden with a quick burst from some new arrow Loki’s scientists had supplied. Then he was aiming two new arrows at the men. “Make a sound, I’ll let them fly.”

The men gasped, but shut their mouths. “Guards are down. You won’t be getting any help from them anyway.” He twisted his wrist so he could still peer behind him and keep a watch on his own six. “Now, both of you in front of me, on your knees.” 

They listened. Hawkeye breathed easily, waiting for the moment when one of them tried to play hero. He also tried to ignore the SHIELD patch on the shoulders of their jackets. He tried really, really hard. They knelt down, facing him, both of them with their hands in the air. “Right, hands behind your heads. Lace your fingers together, and know that I don’t need a bow to kill you both.”

One nodded furiously, the other remained silent but did as they were told. Hawkeye moved behind them, dropped his bow and snapped a pair of zip ties on both. He added a gag and moved back out of the room. 

He worked his way through the hallway in similar fashion, knocking out and tying up anyone in the area. He checked his watch and three minutes and forty-two seconds later the floor was clear and he located the adamantium. 

“All clear, boys. Send in Recon One.”

His radio beeped in his ear, a response was garbled through, and he waited. He kept a careful ear, making sure his hearing aids were tuned correctly. He could hear them on the stairs. They weren't being particularly quiet. Then he heard them in the hallway and labs. Gunshots. Muffled screams. They were taking out those he had incapacitated.

Hawkeye pushed the com in his ear to speak to the others, “Hold off all kill shots! Targets are now unarmed.”

“I gave them the order.” A deep, familiar voice purred out from behind Clint and he turned to see Loki standing behind him, dressed in green leather and holding a familiar scepter. 

Looking him up and down, Clint drew back a step. “Where’d you get that?”

Loki just shook his head slowly. “Your old team does not keep things as safe as they would like to think. You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed who owns the facilities you’ve been breaking into for me.”

His lip twitched upwards in a grimace, feet shifting their weight again. Clint didn’t want to admit it, to himself or to the man standing in front of him. That was part of the problem wasn’t it? Clint was the problem and…

Loki drew closer, the scepter got too close. Clint jerked back and pressed back against a counter. “You pull away, now, pet? After everything we’ve been building? Look at you. You’ve never been better than you are now. You have only one last step, Clint Barton, and then you’re perfect.”

Footsteps sounded from out in the hallway, the doors whooshed open admitting more people into the little lab. Just outside of the door, two soldiers were holding a man back. He was in tactical gear, clearly boasting more than human strength. Probably a mutant, or victim of some messed up super-soldier scheme someone tried to duplicate. It wasn’t the men that were able to hold him back, though. Clint could see the blue in his eyes, the unnatural glow.

“What are you playing at, Loki?”

“Testing your allegiance. You tend to be a team-jumper.” He smiled slowly, brushing his hand out to the men holding the mind-controlled. They let him go and Clint pulled up his bow, aiming it at the man.

“Not funny. Knock it off, Lok.” The man started forwards. There wasn’t enough room in here. Hawkeye moved quickly; he jumped up onto a counter, kicking a set of empty vials aside and gaining a strong foothold as he nocked an arrow- smoke-tipped.

The man advanced. Loki laughed. Hawkeye fired the arrow.

Smoke filled the room and the archer made his move. He leapt from the counter into the haze, rolled over a shoulder and into the hallway. Then, he booked it for the end of the hallway, turned and nocked his next shot. The man with the glowing eyes tore from the room, teeth bared and clearly angry. He started down the hall towards Clint, fists clenched and ready for a fight. Hawkeye fired two consecutive arrows in the span of seconds, a set of ropes springing from each and wrapping about the man’s legs. It tripped him up, but barely slowed him. He plowed forwards and Hawkeye took to the stairs. He needed up and out. He didn’t want to handle this inside. The parking lot outside would be better suited for trying to keep this man alive.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Hawkeye reached the door but then was rammed through it. Apparently, strength and speed had been gained by this guy. The two rolled out into the dark of the late night, and Hawkeye’s bow went clattering across the entryway, out of reach. 

Ending up on the bottom, Clint had a super-soldier pinning his hips down, but his hands were free. He jammed a fist up under the man’s chin, trying to dislodge him from the superior position. At the same time, he planted his feet and jutted his hips upwards. The man was strong, but untrained. He listed to the side and Clint used the weight to shift with him, taking the top position and following with fists. 

The glint of a knife gleamed from the man’s hand as it came up from the side and Clint cringed, throwing up his forearm to block the hit. He felt the quick slice of metal, pain blossoming a second then disappearing. He rolled back off the man, going for his own knives. Clint had barely pulled his out when the man was on top of him. It was too close. They were too close, metal on metal, flesh pressed to flesh and the parking lot ground digging into Clint’s back again. He kept his hands moving, watching the other’s blade, unsure how he’d ended up back on the ground but working on keeping alive. 

As the man leaned his face close, growling at Clint, his features flashed. Suddenly, Clint was staring at the man whom he’d put an arrow through months before. Clint froze and suddenly it was an angered Steve Rogers, then his own brother, mouth agape in pain. Clint blinked, slammed a fist into the man’s face and took the upper position again. He dropped his knives and pounded at the face. Hands came up and blocked the hits. Turning to his training with Cap, Clint went for the arms, attempting to pin them and work the man into a submit. The face was the man he killed, but it couldn’t be, and suddenly anger outweighed most every other thought. Clint pulled the gun he kept at his thigh and pressed the muzzle to the man’s forehead until he stopped moving. 

“Who the fuck are you?” His finger was starting to squeeze at the trigger, wanting all of this to go away.

The man just started to laugh. Clint narrowed his eyes and the visage shimmered, fell through a few familiar faces, and all at once he was looking into green eyes.

Clint grit his teeth, held the gun steady, and stared down at a laughing Loki. The god pushed him away and Clint sprawled back on his ass, looking at the god wipe away the remnants of some twisted vision.

“Alright, alright. You’re on my side then.” Loki got to his feet and held out a hand to Clint. “Come on, pet. Let the scientists gather my new toy and we will go home.”

Clint sat, gun still in one hand, and stared at what had become of his life.

“Clint, let’s go.” Loki’s voice turned dark in a second and something about it finally snapped in Clint’s mind.

“No.” He unchambered his round, put the gun back in the holster, and collected his bow all while being acutely aware of Loki watching him. “I’m done. This is… I am insane. You’re insane. I’m not sure how I let it go this far, or why I thought you were some answer to the bullshit I put myself through, but I almost fired a round into your skull. On purpose. I really wanted to.” Clint shook his head, collapsing the recurve bow. “No matter the fucked up shit I did with SHIELD or the Avengers, I am a better person with them.”

“Even if you’re miserable?” Loki called after him. “You aren’t happy there!”

Clint tossed a middle finger over his shoulder. “I’m not happy here, either!” 

Two hours later, Clint was standing at the front door of Avenger’s Tower, looking a bit worse for wear. He was looking at the entry panel, wondering if his clearance had been taken away. If he had been in their position, he would have taken it away. Still, he could try. He punched in the number, pressed a thumb to the now exposed pad, and scrunched his eyebrows when it lit up green. 

The doors opened and Clint stepped through. The quiver of arrows tied to his belt and sitting on the opposite thigh as the gun thunked lightly as he walked through the empty front entry. Lights came on before him and went off behind him, lighting his way as he went for the elevator. At two in the morning, the only person he’d likely run into was Tony. The others had sense enough to sleep. He hoped.

He managed to not run into anyone all the way to the penthouse hangout and a couch that he claimed. He tossed the weapons and ammo on the coffee table, yanked a throw-blanket from it’s neatly folded place on the back of a couch, and curled up falling asleep.


	9. Hawkguy is a Good Guy

Clinton hadn’t slept that well in months. When he woke, blinking against the light pouring in from the bank of windows across from him, he was really sore. It made sense and that wasn’t what had him in a mild panic. The figures gathered in the room, chatting quietly amongst themselves, that was what had him sitting up quickly, losing balance and tottering off the couch onto the floor.

“Ow. Damn it.” He hauled himself back up into a sitting position, untangling the blanket from about his legs. He looked up, groaned, and put his head in his hands.

Natasha, Steve, Tony, Kate, and Bruce sat in front of him all lounging in different chairs or couches. They also had all turned to look at him as he woke up ungracefully.

“You’re an idiot, Barton.” Kate was, of course, the first to throw the start of the insults. “And we missed you. You’re not allowed to run away like that anymore.”

Clint slowly looked up. “It’s kinda become my thing.”

“Yeah, we noticed. We also need it to stop, Clint. You had us really worried this time.” Steve was watching him with those ridiculously sad-puppy eyes and Clint actually felt bad.

He rubbed the back of his neck, stretched a little, and nodded. “Well, I ain’t going back to Loki again, so there’s a start I guess.”

“Loki?!” Natasha was across the room and on the couch next to Clint in seconds. “You went to Loki?”

“You really didn’t know where I was?”

Natasha frowned at him, grabbed his face to look over his injuries. “No, none of us did.”

“You were the one breaking into the safe-houses and warehouses.” Tony didn’t ask, just stated, and that likely put together all the pieces for the others.

Clint looked down, took a deep breath, then lifted his head again. “Yeah. Any deaths were not my kills though, for whatever few points that counts for.”

Then, the heavy hitter, “Why’d you come back?”

Nat turned to look at Bruce, ready to argue with him about what had been said likely, but Clint waved away any argument.

“Why did you?” Bruce and Clint regarded each other for a few heartbeats. Bruce understood; he'd run and came back too. 

Clint hung his head. “You guys make me a better person. I just needed to realize I wasn't complete shit without you guys.”

Bruce nodded. Nat looked down at her hands in her lap. Steve was just shaking his head.

“Everyone is shit when Captain Perfect isn't around.”

Clint laughed, “Thanks for that Tony.”

The alarms blared, cutting off any more of Clint and Tony's banter. They jumped, except for Clint, and headed into motion. Tony cut the sound of the blaring, and Nat looked at Clint.

“That’s all you guys. I am sitting this one out.” He reclined back on the couch and watched them scramble. “Avengers, go assemble.”

There were very audible groans from the team which only made Clint grin to himself. He thought his face might crack from smile-disuse so clamped it down and reverted to quiet brooding. While what he spoke was true, it was hard to dissuade years of thinking you were a waste of human space. That would not be fixed in one afternoon with some of the greatest people on Earth.

XxxxxxxX

Four months after returning to the team, Clint is doing better. He's training with Steve, staying up late nights with Tony and discussing their issues over coffee, and he's living with Kate again. Lucky has forgiven him, Natasha babies him, and he's just not talking to Jessica. Things are, mostly, okay.

He's on his way into the Tower today to help Bruce with a project and makes a stop at Starbucks. It's busy, loud, and Clint feels suddenly overwhelmed.

He doesn't like the press of the bodies around him. He doesn't like the sharp, sudden noises in his ears. Clint doesn't feel safe.

Snagging his coffee and trying his best to give a happy smile and thanks, he spins around runs into someone, his coffee crunching between them. Thankfully, he'd gotten iced coffee and doesn't burn either of them.

"Shit, oh man, I'm so sorry!" Clint scrambles to get napkins from the counter, shoving a bunch towards the other person. "Here, I'm sorry, let me help." He freezes as he looks at her.

The woman is beautiful, surprise widening her brown eyes. The tips of her long hair now have whipped cream on them. But she smiles, her cheeks scrunching up with heavy laugh lines. She extends her hand, which Clint takes immediately and gives it a soft shake. “Nice to run into you. I’m Laura.”

“Clint, and again, sorry for spilling coffee all over you. Seriously, let me help you clean up and I'll buy your coffee for you.”

Laura laughs, shrugs her shoulders. “Sure, but can I get your number with that coffee?”

And now it's Clint's turn to smile. "Absolutely. If I wasn't already late to work, I'd suggest sitting down together."

Laura takes some of the napkins and they clean themselves up then get back in line. "So what do you do?" She asks.

"What do I…" he looks at her and realizes she has no idea who he is. "Oh. Um. Well, I'm an Avenger, actually. Hawkeye."

Laura's eyes widen again. "I just asked out a superhero?"

"Okay well like, I'm not one with super powers though," Clint says rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. 

Laura just shrugs. "Maybe not, but you're cute. I remember seeing you on t.v., and you kept up with all those super powered people."

Clint shrugs and feels his cheeks redden. "You still want my number then?"

"Absolutely."

Clint heads to the Tower with a fresh coffee, his number in Laura's phone, a spring in his steps that he hasn't had for months. Maybe things would actually be okay. Maybe Barton was actually okay. He smiles thinking if Laura, of what future could be had with someone not in the superhero gig, and feels hope. 


End file.
